Once We've Fallen
by HereAfter
Summary: Three years after the Demon World Tournament, unknown forces destroyed the barrier between worlds, ending the division between the Demon and Human Worlds forever. In the aftermath, the former spirit detectives create a sanctuary for humans, spirits, and demons alike—but only for those they trust, and the strange demon Kalanie falls outside those ranks... Or does she?
1. The World Turned Upside Down

The Fall occurred three years after Yusuke Urameshi's tournament of kings chose Demon World's new ruler, three years after the revolution meant to reshape the demon planes forever, three years all marked by border patrols and human protection laws and _peace_.

Then came the Fall—the dissolution of the barrier between worlds.

There was no grand fight preceding its destruction, no war to protect the human world, no spirit detectives putting their lives on the line. One day, the barrier stood, and the next, it did not.

Demon World's great leaders never foresaw the Fall's arrival. Not King Enki, concluding his reign as ruler of the demon plane. Not Lord Mukuro or her right hand Lord Hiei Jaganshi. Not Yomi or his general Youko Kurama. Not Yusuke Urameshi on one of his infrequent trips to his lands in Tourin.

But the common folk knew.

The whispers had started four months before the Fall. They were quiet, little more than murmurings in dank taverns, soft as the wind blowing through the Forest of Fools. But when the time came, demonkind was ready.

Thousands of apparitions and fiends alike gathered on the massive plateaus sprouting from the world's sprawling plains. They stared into the sky. Demon after demon waiting for the ending of the world as they'd known it.

When the wall fell, the worlds shook, trembling and colliding as they touched in a way they had not for centuries. A vortex erupted in the sky, seizing the waiting masses and drawing them into the beyond.

Not every soul made it. The great divide between worlds tore the weakest spirits apart, shredding them like so much nothing beneath the crush of its power. But many survived, and when they landed in the soft soil of Human World, boots and claws and padded feet thudding down across the globe, nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

Author's Note: Just a prologue here. A setting of the stage. There will be more to come soon!


	2. Between the Sinners and the Saints

The domed shield arced into the sky, a crackling blue wall of spirit energy. Somewhere beyond it lay the sacred temple of these mountains.

Kalanie had known not to come here. She could never pass through that barrier. And she knew, too, what lay beyond it—every demon in Human World knew. One of the few sanctuaries left for humans and peaceful apparitions. The retired Spirit Detectives had carved it into existence, cleaving a swathe of safety through the perilous forest that covered these mountains.

Kazuma Kuwabara led the resistance fighters who hunkered here. A human strong enough to lead demons. A human whose sword could tear holes in the fabric of world. She'd heard enough rumored stories of his power to know she could not risk crossing his path.

Nor could she risk the others who called this place home. Yusuke Urameshi. Yoko Kurama. Hiei Jaganshi. Lords of Demon World. Men who would all see her dead if they knew the truth.

Yet here she stood.

Wind whistled through the trees. Empty and haunting.

She was tired of these woods, of the forsaken silences. More than that, she was tired of the ache in her chest—the missing gap where her strength should be. Absently, she rubbed her hands together, and the rasp of metal whined through the clearing.

She splayed a palm against the barrier, and its heat warmed the iron coating her fingers, gloving her forearm. Rust sullied its silver surface in places. Like all the iron before it, this batch would not last much longer.

That's what had drawn her here. The iron buried in the rolling foothills had grown thin, plundered beneath her desperate, hungry touch. But _here_ , beyond the wall, new ore waited—massive caches of it that clamored at the edges of her senses, louder than any instinctual warning could hope to be.

If she could step beyond the barrier, perhaps that iron could be hers. Or perhaps not. Perhaps she would die—and that was an outcome she could never allow. Not yet. Not while Nomi was still out there.

A fresh gust of wind kicked at her jacket. The frayed, old leather provided little shield against the chill. She'd found it three months back before she'd left behind the crowded streets of the nearest city and lost herself in the mountains. It had been one of dozens lying in a ravaged shop, deemed human trash by the low class demon who had seized the place as his own. She'd scooped it from the ruins and fled the city, refusing to acknowledge the human slaves chained in the streets or the bodies rotting in the twisting allies.

Clutching her arms about her stomach, she leaned into the barrier, pressing her forehead against it. The energy buzzed against her skin—loud, insistent, and strong as steel, but not painful. A warning. Not a threat.

"Don't move!"

The voice startled her. It came at her back. Rough and angry.

Sucking in a deep breath, she said, "I'm not here to fight."

"Like hell you aren't. Hands up. Turn around slowly."

She obeyed, waiting for her instincts to react. For fear to send her heart racing. For anger to tighten her jaw. For cunning to plot her escape.

None of that came.

One look at the man and she knew him. She'd seen his photo a hundred times. Studied it. Committed it to memory. The orange hair. The dark eyes. The crackling yellow sword.

Kazuma Kuwabara. Protector of humans. Lord of these mountains.

"Please," she whispered. "I'll leave. You'll never see me again."

"Too late." He leveled his blade at her and stalked a step closer. In the gloom of twilight, the hollows beneath his eyes seemed black as pitch. She wondered if they rivaled her own. "We don't allow trespassers to leave this place."

The unwritten law of this land. Another thing she'd known. A product of the world the Fall had created—that she'd created. No one was allowed to reach the barrier and leave alive. It was a simple measure, yet strangely logical. As if these mountains—as if the _entire_ Human World—could be rid of demons one by one.

Still she felt nothing. No racing pulse. No quickening of her breath. Just emptiness. The same hollow ache that had haunted her for fifteen months, ever since Nomi had been torn from her, never to return.

Perhaps, then, it was no surprise she hadn't sensed Kazuma Kuwabara's approach. Nor that of the man at her back, not until it was too late.

A whip hissed through the air and, in the space of heartbeat, twined about her wrists, pinning them at her back. Her metal gloves whined, as if hooks or barbs had screeched against the iron—but no, she knew the whip that held her. Just as she'd recognized Kazuma Kuwabara's sword.

The infamous rose whip of Youko Kurama.

"Good timing, Kurama," the human said. He lowered his sword, the spirit energy fading between his fingers until nothing remained.

"I hadn't realized you'd already dispatched to track down the intruder." Youko Kurama's voice was soft as silk, gentle and unassuming. It sent a tremble down her spine—the first inkling of fear she'd felt.

"And _I_ hadn't realized you'd returned from Demon World."

She felt Youko Kurama step closer, the heat of him pressing at her back, then the pressure of a hand encircling her wrists, the touch not fully blocked by the thin iron of her gloves. As his grip tightened around her forearms, searing pain flashed across her wrists, spiking through her flesh and bones.

Instantly, the call of the iron buried deep within the mountains receded. Her energy faded, twisting inward on itself, burrowing deep into the shadowed recesses of her body, desperately seeking to escape the burning heat now clamped about her wrists.

Spirit cuffs.

Terror ignited in her veins, and she bucked against his grip. "No. Stop. Let me go. Please."

A sharp jerk of the whip stilled her, but when Youko Kurama spoke, it was not to her. "We've discovered something. Hiei and Yusuke should be here by morning."

Kazuma Kuwabara paced until he stood before Kalanie. He studied her for a moment, his gaze raking over her face, then he stalked past her and slipped through the barrier. "I thought Hiei was entangled at the battle—"

"Not now," Youko Kurama interrupted. Another tug of his whip forced Kalanie around. She caught a flash of red hair and emerald eyes before a push sent her stumbling forward. She braced for impact against the shimmering shield, but she passed smoothly through it. "We've got to secure this prisoner. Then we'll talk."

 _Prisoner._

 _Again._

Kazuma Kuwabara's black gaze roved back to Kalanie. He nodded his head sharply. "Let's get to it, then."

* * *

Her prison proved to be a trench dug into the hard-packed earth. Soil formed the walls and floor. A massive stone slab had been shoved into place overhead, forming a makeshift ceiling, and a new barrier gleamed against the walls, its pale glow the only light in the hole.

At first, she clawed at the shield, bloodying her fingers and wasting what little strength remained in her iron gloves. Rust spider-webbed across her knuckles and fissuring up her wrists. It was as the first flakes fell that she collapsed to the earth.

A fool. What a fool she'd been to come here.

The shrine lay a few hundred yards away, and even trapped in her earthen prison, she could feel the pulse of a score of demons hidden within its walls. All stronger than her. All more powerful than she'd ever been—even ten years ago when she'd been free.

Spirit energies flickered within those walls, too. The beacon of power she'd already learned to recognize as Kazuma Kuwabara's. Another that smoldered like a coal, burning with the steady heat of a strength that once belonged to a bonfire.

Trapped as she was, time bled into itself. She judged its passing by the meals delivered to her, when the stone overhead was shoved aside and emerald eyes peered down. Youko Kurama. In his human form. Each time, he dropped a canteen into the hollow, then the stone shuddered back into place.

She drank the steaming broth in the canteens slowly, savoring them. How long had it been since she'd eaten a proper meal? Something more than scavenged berries or a rabbit she snared and roasted over a weak campfire. The broth was weak, some watered down approximation of chicken stock, but she welcomed its warmth.

The canteens seemed infrequent. Delivered every twelve hours. Maybe even longer. By her fifth, she'd become desperate for the brief fissure of outside light, the flash of Youko Kurama's eyes.

"Wait," she said as the canteen rolled to a stop against her foot. Her voice nearly failed her, barely making it past her dry throat. She scrabbled onto her knees. "What do you want from me? I'll give it you, whatever it is. Please. I can't stay here—"

"Quiet."

Her pleading died on her tongue.

Youko Kurama's head angled to the side. A gentle smile curled his lips. "You've caught us at a bad time, but we know you're here. We'll get to you when we can."

Get to her? As if she was some task on a to-do list. Her hands curled into fists against the barrier. The spirit cuffs around her wrists glowed brighter than gold. Rusted iron flaked from her fingers, revealing her pale skin and the black markings etched into it.

A sob shuddered through her chest. "You don't want me here," she begged. "Let me go. I won't tell a soul. No one will know you freed me."

The rock groaned, lurching over the gap. Before he disappeared, Youko Kurama bowed his head. "I'm sorry."

Then she was alone.

* * *

Eleven canteens.

Five days? Six? Seven?

She couldn't be sure. But eleven empty canteens had accumulated in the corner. The pit stank of her filth, and she'd begun to wonder if this was their plan all along. They were never intending to free her. Instead, she would rot here until she suffocated in the stale, toxic air.

Sometimes, that fear woke new strength in her bones, sent her scrabbling against the walls, had her pounding at the stone overhead, screaming until her voice ran out. But for the most part, it exhausted her. To her core.

The last of her gloves had given way to rust when she'd reached for the eighth canteen. Human World iron was so weak. So useless. Its ruin left her empty. Worse, she could feel the beast coming for her—that ravaging monster that clawed at her mind when she was without iron. It wasn't far now.

There was a sick, twisted pleasure to that knowledge. If her captors truly meant for her to die here, it would happen far sooner than they could possibly hope.

In that, she had cards up her sleeve.

A rumble overhead announced movement of the stone. She rocked her head back, waiting for the green eyes to appear, the pitying smile she'd come to recognize, but what greeted her was a new gaze. Narrow. Hard.

Crimson.

This time, the boulder kept moving, the gap widening until there was space for her appraiser to leap into the pit. He was dressed all in black, a katana at his hip, the crease of a third eye closed upon his forehead. A demon she'd seen before. Not only on the profiles she'd memorized so painstakingly—so against her own will—but also in person. More than once. On those days when he stood beside Lord Mukuro and governed over audiences of Alaric's masses.

Hiei Jaganshi.

Shadows slanted through the gap overhead, three silhouettes blocking out the midday sun. A voice she'd never heard before ordered, "Don't wreck her, Hiei. Just get answers. Then Kuwabara can send her on."

"Hn."

The fire demon stepped closer. If the stench of the pit bothered him, it didn't register on his sharp, angular features, but she didn't miss the way his hand rested on the hilt of his katana nor the violence promised in his dark eyes.

"Stand, girl."

She didn't.

Because she knew what came now. His eyes would open. He'd enter her mind. He'd bend her thoughts to his will. He'd break her.

And she'd already been broken enough.

His fingers closed around his katana's hilt. "Up."

"No."

The blade flashed. Its point came to rest between her eyes. Still, she didn't waver.

She'd heard of the Jagan Eye's power. He could use it from anywhere. Whatever reason he wanted her to stand wasn't vital to why he was here.

"On your feet."

When she didn't move, he lunged closer. Her breath caught in her teeth, but she remained motionless, her arms tucked deep within the sleeves of her jacket.

She'd hidden them ever since her gloves had flaked off. The inky markings that scrolled across her flesh couldn't be seen. She wouldn't let them be. She _couldn't_. They would seal her fate, because surely, no matter how little the old spirit detectives had learned of the Fall's true nature, by now they must recognize the markings.

She'd never leave this place if they were seen.

Then Nomi would be lost. Forever.

"On your feet or you will die—"

"Hiei," warned Youko Kurama. "No killing. You know that."

The demon snorted. " _She_ didn't." Then, quick as a snake, his free hand grabbed hold of her jacket and hauled her to her feet. His katana's point remained glued to her forehead all the while. "Not so difficult, was it?"

Her lips pressed thin against an answer.

But it didn't matter. He hadn't wanted a response, not truly. The crease on his forehead shifted, his Jagan opening, the purple eye glowing in the shadowed pit. With her powers trapped under the spirit cuffs, she couldn't feel his assault on her mind, but she knew it must have come—that even as she stared back at him, he must be seeing it all. The truth. Her past. Her rotten, horrid role in the Fall.

She braced for death, for his katana to run her through, and she thought of Nomi, wherever he was. Lost. Alone. Abandoned.

No pain came.

The silence stretched. The Jagan glowed brighter. His grip on her jacket tightened, drew her closer. Then a snarl tore from his lips.

He shoved her backward, and she collided with the wall. "How are you doing it?" he demanded. "How have you hidden yourself?"

She gave no answer. Not to withhold information, but because she had none. She couldn't fathom what he meant. Hidden herself? Not possible.

Her silence enraged him. He shook her wildly, his grip so rough her worn jacket tore, the sleeve slipping from her arm as the cloth gave way. Instant panic clawed into her throat. She lurched away, desperate to hide her bare forearms, her marred hands—the markings that declared her the enemy.

But she failed.

His crimson gaze raked down her bare arms, roved over her hands. With slow, methodical precision, he aimed his katana at her heart.

She shook her head, raised her hands in surrender. "No. It's not what you think. I'm not—"

Kazuma Kuwabara interrupted. "Are those…?"

"The tattoos we keep seeing," the Jaganshi growled. His blade pressed against her shirt deep enough to cut the cloth—to draw blood. His next words cut her to the bone. "She's one of them."

* * *

AN: Ah! I'm loving being back in this world. I've been working on original stories for a long time now, but holy crap, I missed YYH. Kalanie has a tangled, complicated history, so if you're confused right now, you haven't missed anything—it just hasn't been revealed yet.

I hope you enjoy it! Time permitting, I'll hopefully be writing plenty more soon.


	3. Ev'ry Burden, Ev'ry Disadvantage

"Then why didn't she fight?" asked the voice she didn't know. Its owner hunched beside the trench, his head cocked to the side. Watching her. "You know, attack? Like all the others have. Doesn't fit the mold."

"No, she doesn't." Youko Kurama hummed softly, then added, "Not mindless, either."

The Jaganshi scoffed. His katana cut deeper. She grabbed at it, the edges splitting her palms wide, and scrabbled to control the steel, but her power remained dormant, hidden in dark places, far from the scalding heat of the spirit cuffs. "So they've changed tactics," the fire demon spat. "Doesn't mean anything."

"Tactics? There were no tactics, shrimp. She was standing there, just waiting to be captured."

"Could be a spy," Youko Kurama mused.

"I'm not." The barrier burned at her back, leaving no escape, and no matter how hard she pressed against the blade, the Jaganshi's katana never wavered. "I left… Fled, really. We were—"

Her voice choked out, knotting on her tongue. The force of the sensation left her breathless. If not for the steel cutting into her chest, she would have fallen to her knees.

The crouched silhouette leapt into motion, thudding into the pit at the Jaganshi's side. Kalanie recognized him instantly. The final member of the once great spirit detectives. _The_ detective himself.

Yusuke Urameshi.

A tremor of fear spiked through her heart. She knew what he'd done to perpetrators of the Fall. She'd seen the corpses hanging from his stronghold in Tourin firsthand.

"You were what? Don't leave us hanging."

Brought to Human World as _his_ pet. Kept here, watching his atrocities. Perpetrating them herself. Until he'd let his guard down, slipped up.

But the story wouldn't come. Her voice remained locked in her throat. There would be no explanations.

She should've known. It didn't matter how much time had passed. The four months since her escape hadn't freed her. Not truly.

At her silence, Urameshi twisted his lips into a pucker. His dark gaze settled on the Jaganshi. "You said she was hidden. What's that mean?"

"I can't see her mind. It's not walled off. It simply doesn't exist."

Urameshi arched a brow. "Well, that's not possible."

"Hn."

"It's these," she whispered. Releasing the katana, she extended her arms, drawing attention to the markings inked across her skin. Blood dripped from her palms, running down her wrists and plopping to the barrier beneath her feet.

"Oh, so now you'll talk?" Urameshi leaned closer. His callused fingers gripped her arm, turning it this way and that. "Still don't understand what these are."

Binds. The chains that linked her to _him_. Forever. Another explanation that lodged on her tongue. But there were pieces she could talk about, bits that fell outside his rules. "I'm not certain how, but if Lord Hiei can't see my mind, it must be these stopping him."

A beat of silence held them in its grasp. With a halting laugh, Kazuma Kuwabara said, " _Lord_ Hiei? As if."

Before the others could answer, the thud of pounding footsteps broke the stillness. A lithe woman stumbled to a halt beside Youko Kurama's dark silhouette. "Demons in the forest. At least a dozen. Jin says they'll need you."

Urameshi straightened and, in one leap, cleared the edge of the pit. "Leave her, Hiei. Close this back up. I'll talk to the old woman later. See if she knows what those markings mean." Then he was gone, Kazuma Kuwabara and Youko Kurama on his heels.

Blurring into motion, the Jaganshi jumped from her prison. He stalked out of sight without a backward glance. When the stone groaned and began to close, she realized he'd gone to shove it into place.

The woman bent down, peering into the gap. "I'm sorry about this," she said. Sunlight caught on her powder blue hair as she offered a weak smile.

The kindness in her tone startled Kalanie and words failed her. By the time she found her tongue, the rock had settled into place, blocking out the sun and the sky and everything else with it. Her voice echoed in her own ears.

"Don't be."

* * *

Four more canteens.

She'd stopped drinking them. Day after day of the same weak broth was little better than the berries she'd foraged in the woods. She drank when thirst became unbearable, but otherwise they accumulated untouched in the prison's corner.

Whatever demons had drawn her captors away, it seemed they'd also pushed her thoroughly from mind. Youko Kurama had not even returned to feed her. Instead, a nameless apparition had taken his place. The wiry boy dropped canteens at her feet and watched her with beady eyes, swinging what looked like a yo-yo around one of his fingers.

Other than his interruptions, she'd been left alone, and in the stillness, the blue light of the barrier had begun to eat away at her. She craved the sun or the moon. Even starlight. Anything but this foreign spirit energy and its constant reminder that she was so far from home.

Sometimes, as she struggled for sleep, she imagined begging to be returned to Demon World. Surely Urameshi could see the worth in sending her home. One less demon to haunt Human World. But perhaps he wouldn't. After all, without the barrier between worlds, she could return easily enough. Besides, returning now, unprepared as she was, would be asking for death. Or worse. Far worse.

So there would be no return to Demon World. Not until she had answers. A means to find Nomi. To free him.

Those answers had been so close. Weeks away. The meeting was soon. If she could be free of this place, she could make it there. She'd known for weeks that she would take the deal. Anything to get Nomi back.

 _Anything_.

So when the noises of the encampment overhead grew quiet and she knew night had found the shrine, she set herself against the barrier. Fighting and clawing. Drawing on the power knotted deep within her and hurling it against the spirit cuffs encasing her wrists. Over and over. For hours. Until she collapsed to the ground, too exhausted for more.

It could have been her imagination, a mere trick of her rattled thoughts, but she could've sworn the cuffs' golden light flickered. As if her efforts had weakened them.

Maybe they had. But not enough.

Not yet.

* * *

"Enough racket down there!"

Kalanie fell still as the stone blocking her in was shoved out of place. Her second night attempting escape had proved no more successful than the first, but it seemed she'd drawn attention to herself. Crouched in the corner of the pit, she peered up at the figure visible in the gap. This time, she recognized him. Urameshi.

He shoved a hand down toward her. "Come on."

She hesitated a beat, waiting for the trick—the pop of his spirit gun or the reemergence of the Jaganshi's katana. Neither came. Slowly, she rose to her feet and took his hand. He yanked her from the pit with ease, and she landed lightly beside him.

The moonlight brimmed his hair in silver as he shoved his hands in his pockets and jerked his head for her to follow. Ahead, the shrine sprawled through the clearing. Sloppy additions had been constructed on its east side and distant smoke curled above the roof, as if an encampment was hidden behind the structure.

"The old woman thinks she knows what those marks on your hands are. She says if she's right, you might not be the enemy after all. Don't do anything to prove her wrong." Urameshi shot her a wry grin over his shoulder. "Won't be able to stop _Lord_ Hiei from killing you if you do."

The mocking lilt in his tone set her on edge. He was a lord, too. More so than the Jaganshi even. Yet he seemed to be laughing at her. As if _she_ were the fool for respecting the heir of Alaric.

As he led her up a set of rickety steps to the shrine's sliding doors, she asked, "What is it that I don't know? What makes his title humorous?"

Urameshi halted with a hand on the door. He snorted. "You mean other than how much Hiei hates it? I guess the fact that Alaric no longer exists, for starters."

He may as well have punched her. Alaric… gone? "That's not possible—"

This time he made no attempt to hide his laughter as he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her into the temple. "You must be cozy in that pit of yours. Can't be too different from whatever rock you've been living under for three months."

Three months. Alaric had fallen mere weeks after her escape? How was that possible? And three months ago, she'd still been living in the human city. Or, well, not _living_ , but existing. Surviving. Either way, she'd heard nothing of Alaric's dissolution. Had news not reached Human World then?

"Word to the wise," Urameshi added at a whisper, "don't go mentioning Alaric to Hiei. He'll gut you for it."

Then he shoved her into a brightly lit room, its walls lined with cushion. All but one was occupied. Almost a score of demons and humans kneeled in wait, their eyes locked on her. She was all too aware of her muddied clothes, the reek that rolled off her skin.

She knew nearly every gathered apparition by name. All of the retired spirit detectives. And others, too. The allies they had made during their careers. Botan, the same woman who'd apologized for her confinement days ago. Keiko Yukimura. Shizuru Kuwabara. Yukina. Demons who'd made names for themselves in the Dark Tournament—Jin, Chu, Touya, Rinku. Humans turned psychics—Yu Kaito, Asato Kido, Mitsunari Yanagisawa.

Face after face that she'd seen before. Every last one in the reports she'd read until her eyes failed her. She'd never imagined she'd see them in person. The last vestiges of defense left for Human World. _He_ had hated them. At night, when darkness came, he'd lie awake for hours, plotting their deaths. He'd painted vivid pictures of the violence he'd beset upon them, of the armies he would bring against them.

Now it was their turn.

And it was hard to imagine a future where this was not her last night amongst the living.

As Yusuke settled onto an empty cushion in the center of the assembly, Kalanie wrapped her arms about her middle and met his gaze. He offered her a lazy smirk and called, "Hey, old lady! Where are you?"

The whisper soft rustling of stocking-covered feet answered him. An old woman emerged from the hall and stalked into the room. Genkai. Despite the spirit cuffs shackling her power, Kalanie had thought she'd sensed the old psychic—the energy signature that burned like the embers of a bonfire.

Just as the rumors she'd heard for years always promised.

"Shut it, dimwit," the psychic barked. She drew even with Kalanie and paced around her once, her narrowed eyes tracking up and down her body. Once she completed her circle, she extended a hand and snapped her fingers impatiently. "Give me your arm, girl."

The order struck a nerve in Kalanie. For the barest moment, she considered resisting. Bolting, even. She was fast. If she caught them off guard, perhaps she could escape. The woods weren't far and the deadline couldn't be more than a handful of weeks away. She could stay lost in the trees, hidden until the agreed upon meeting time at last arrived. Then she'd strike the deal. She'd have her chance.

She'd get Nomi back.

But as quick as those imaginings came, they disappeared. One low growl from the Jaganshi was enough to remind her. The records she'd studied put his max speed far beyond anything she could hope to achieve, especially without iron to bolster her. She'd never outrun him.

Her breath catching in her teeth, she unraveled her arms and held them out.

Beneath the temple's stark lighting, the markings on her arm seemed black as the darkest nightmare. The whorls and lines crisscrossed her flesh in a latticework of terrors. At her wrists, beneath the golden light of the spirit cuffs, the ink was drawn like the links of a chain. In neat, precise lettering, the characters of _his_ name were etched into her skin.

 _Masaru._

"The Sovereign Binds," Genkai said. She traced a finger over the ink as if to check the markings were not raised. The scrap of her nail sent a shiver wracking down Kalanie's spine. No one had touched her arms in four months. She'd never even let them be seen without iron gloves, let alone exposed so thoroughly.

"Which is what you expected?"

Genkai turned to Youko Kurama. "Yes. And no. I thought these no longer existed. I haven't seen the technique in decades."

Chu took a swill from a bottle he clutched in his lap. "Well, you've not been to the depths of Demon World in decades either, have you, sheila?"

Genkai ignored him. "I wouldn't have believed it if I wasn't seeing them myself, though it was the only explanation for the markings you lot had been seeing. So they controlled you, girl?" Her sharp gaze bore into Kalanie's, but Kalanie couldn't answer. Not this question any more than those Urameshi had asked her before. "Or is that your cover? It's convenient. An easy excuse to pass off."

"I can't say." It was the only explanation she could give—and, in truth, if one read between the lines, it was all the answer needed.

Urameshi seemed not to see those lines. "Answer the damn question. Or don't, if you're an idiot. It's your skin on the line."

Youko Kurama rose to his feet. He crossed the room in five quick steps and bent over Genkai's shoulder. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Genkai, but I don't believe it's that simple. I've not heard much of the Sovereign Binds, but from the rumors I remember, they seal the bearer's will to the creator's entirely. The slightest word, the barest whim becomes an unbreakable command." He offered the glimmer of a smile. "Am I right?"

"I can't say."

He chuckled.

"Why are we laughing?" Urameshi thwacked a fist into an open palm. "She's not answering."

"Because she can't, dimwit. She's been compelled not to."

"Or so she wants us to believe." Disgust dripped from the Jaganshi's tone. "It's a disguise. An excuse and little more."

"It's not."

All eyes swiveled back to her.

Youko Kurama offered her a hand. "We've not introduced ourselves. I'm Kurama. You are?"

"Kalanie," she answered, her own name foreign on her tongue. How long had it been since she'd given it? How long since someone had _used_ it? When she didn't take his hand, he lowered it. "But I know all of you. Have for years."

" _All_ of us?" Urameshi lurched to his feet. He jabbed a thumb toward the women seated in the room's corner. "Even them."

She nodded. "Even them."

"Well," Youko Kurama said, "no need for titles. In case Yusuke hadn't already made that clear. Kurama will do for me."

Kazuma Kuwabara burst into laughter. "Still can't believe you called the shrimp a lord." Ignoring a sharp glare from the fire demon, he pounded a hand against his chest. "I wouldn't fight you if you wanted to call me Lord Kazuma. It's got a great ring to it. But Kuwabara will do just fine."

Kalanie shifted uncomfortably. The urge to run still smoldered in her veins. Whatever this was, it wasn't right. They shouldn't be relaxing their guard. Not around her. Not ever. And using their given names? So familiar. As if they were allies, not enemies.

"So what do we do with her?" Urameshi asked. "These binds of hers, do they make her a threat?"

The Jaganshi's katana clicked free of its scabbard. "Threats must be eliminated. _Before_ they can strike."

"But I'm not. A threat, I mean. I won't—" Her words twisted up on themselves, but she clawed past the compulsion tightening her throat. This wasn't forbidden. This information wasn't secret. "I won't attack. I'm free." Despite herself—despite everything—a laugh tumbled from her lips. "For now."

Genkai's gaze tracked down her arm, settling on the characters inked between the chain links on her wrist. "Masaru," she read. "The demon who bound you?"

"I can't say." It had become her mantra. Her code for _yes_. She prayed the old psychic understood it.

"Are there others?" Genkai took one look at her face and rasped out a chuckle. "You can't say, can you?" She dropped Kalanie's arm at last and turned to the room at large. "I think we keep her here. Indefinitely. If we frame our questions right, she has information we can use."

 _Indefinitely._

Kalanie couldn't stop a half-step backward. She couldn't stay here. Not forever. Not in that hole. Not with the deadline looming.

A murmur ran through the gathered crowd at her movement. The Jaganshi blurred from his seat, appearing at her side instantly, his katana drawn. She raised her hands in surrender.

"Don't put me back there. I _can't_ go back there."

"You won't," Genkai said. She batted the Jaganshi's blade aside. "This is still my shrine. Whether you dimwits like it or not." Her cutting gaze lanced toward the fire demon, but he remained still as stone, his lips curled in a sneer. "Your spirit cuffs stay on, but there's an empty bedroom. We'll put you there."

Her fingers curled into fists so tight her knuckles turned white. "Please take them off. I can't… I need my power. Just for a moment."

The Jaganshi snarled. "Liar."

She ignored him. "I need iron. That's why I came here. There's ore beneath this land. I need it."

The psychic didn't waver. "The cuffs stay on. Tomorrow you'll answer our questions. We'll move forward from there." She paced to the doorway and paused there, one hand on the frame. "Botan, get the girl cleaned up. Fresh clothes. We should have some in our stores. The rest of you, clear out. Don't you have jobs to do?"

As Genkai disappeared and the blue-haired ferrygirl bounced to Kalanie's side, she couldn't tear her eyes from the Jaganshi's katana. Its steel gleamed beneath the lights, calling to her—to the snarling beast pacing ever closer.

They hadn't listened, but she couldn't give up. She'd get her iron. Soon.

Because as the Jaganshi had said: threats must be eliminated. _Before_ they could strike.

* * *

AN: I hope you enjoy this second chapter! I'm having a blast reacquainting myself with the gang. It's been ages since I've been inside their heads, so if anyone doesn't sound quite right, I apologize! It's all feeling more and more familiar every time I sit down at the keyboard.

Also, I have no idea what kind of update schedule I'm going to be able to keep up for this. I actually write YA novels these days (though I'm not published yet), but if I get revision notes back from my agent, those will need to take priority, no matter how much I'd rather write about YYH. That said, I'm hoping not to become too infrequent!


	4. Intelligent Eyes in a Hunger-Pang Frame

The clothes Botan scrounged up for Kalanie were feminine and delicate, a yukata in shades of purple and pink. Fidgeting uncertainly, Botan said, "They're Yukina's old things. Perhaps not a perfect fit, but they should do well enough."

No. They wouldn't. But Kalanie didn't say that. Instead, she gathered them to her chest and murmured, "Thank you."

"None of that," Botan declared, flapping a dismissive hand. "You owe us no thanks after the boys kept you locked up in that hole for so long. Hiei wasn't here, you see, and Yusuke wanted him for an interrogation. Though those shields—are they shields?—around your mind rendered that moot anyway."

The ferrygirl had led Kalanie down a narrow hallway, but she still felt the press of the Jaganshi's glare at her back. If she looked over her shoulder, she knew she'd find him watching her. "It's not a shield. It's…" How to phrase it? How to explain? "My mind isn't mine. Not anymore."

Botan stopped before a sliding door and turned back to Kalanie, her brows raised. "Come again?"

She held out her wrists. "It belongs to him. I've gotten it back for now, but only because I—" The compulsion seized her and the rest of her explanation fell away.

Eyeing her as if she were some wounded animal, Botan slid back the door. A bathroom waited within. The ferry girl flicked on the light switch and gestured Kalanie inside. "There are towels in the closet. Use whatever shampoo and soap are in there. Not enough these days to be picky about sharing." Her gentle smile returned and sent Kalanie's stomach twisting into knots. "I'll be waiting out here when you're done, but take your time. No rush."

Averting her eyes from the mirror, Kalanie stepped onto the tiled floor. Botan slid the door shut at her back, leaving her in peace.

Quickly, refusing to second-guess this kindness they'd offered her, Kalanie toed off her boots and shucked her dirty clothes. The chilled tiles had her dancing from foot to foot as she turned on the shower and waited for the spray to grow hot. When steam spilled past the curtain, she climbed into the tub and lost herself beneath the water.

How long she stood there she couldn't begin to guess. It was only as the water grew cooler that she fumbled for the shampoo. Her hair was a snarl of tangles and it took three passes of conditioner before her fingers ran through smoothly. Then she scrubbed herself with soap until the water was tepid and her skin peppered with gooseflesh.

She'd forgotten to fetch a towel and she padded on wet feet across the tiles to the closet. Once she was dry, she slipped on the delicate yukata and at last faced the mirror. Steam had fogged the glass, and she cleared it with precise swipes of her towel until a face stared back at.

 _A_ face.

But not hers.

The gaunt girl framed in the glass was a stranger to her. Her skin was sallow, her cheekbones grotesque beneath her starved flesh. Unrecognizable.

A stray hair tie lay on the sink. With deft fingers, Kalanie braided her damp hair and tied the ends, then folded her towel neatly, gathered her old rags, and slid open the door.

Steam flooded the hall in her wake. Botan sat beside the doorway, nodding off to sleep, but she stirred groggily when Kalanie cleared her throat. "Oh, you're done. Right, come on then." Scrambling upright, she led Kalanie the last steps down the hall to another paneled door. "This room will be yours, at least for now. This one's mine," she said, rapping her knuckles on the last door they'd passed. "I imagine you're exhausted. Sleep for now, but if you need me, I'm here."

The bedroom was simple. A bed. A dresser. A thin set of sheets. Yet more than Kalanie had possessed in months.

As Botan closed the door and left her in peace, Kalanie padded to the dresser and laid her old things inside one of the drawers, then hung her towel from the knob. Still in her yukata, half-convinced she was dreaming, she climbed into the bed.

* * *

Kalanie never slept that night.

She tried. In fact, she tossed and turned for hours. But her body wouldn't settle. The mattress was too soft, the sheets too silken. It unnerved her.

In the wee hours of the morning, she forsook the bed and stumbled to the window. Its view looked to the rear of the shrine, revealing—as she'd suspected the night before—a sprawling encampment. Tent after tent had been erected between the trees, fires burning between them. The last army in defense of humanity. A handful of half-trained psychics. Apparitions who saw no future for themselves in this new world. The local, pitiful humans who'd managed to survive the first disastrous weeks after the Fall.

This was their stronghold. An old shrine, a barrier, and a field of tents.

Human World's future had never looked so bleak.

She saw him then, as the sun's first rays cleared the trees—the Jaganshi, seated in a tree mere yards from her window. He held his katana in hand, sharpening it on a whetstone, but his gaze never strayed from her. Even through the curtains, she could make out the burning purple light of his Jagan.

No doubt he expected her to flee. To scurry to her bed and never emerge. But she was done fleeing. She needed a plan. A way out of here. And she wouldn't find one huddled beneath her sheets.

So she stared back, meeting his crimson gaze and refusing to give so much as an inch. When he flickered out of existence, she knew where he'd gone. The scrape of the door opening didn't surprise her.

She'd been expecting it.

* * *

The wall rattled as Kalanie collided with it. Smarting pain flared down her spine, stinging as the Jaganshi pressed closer, his hand curled in the fabric of her borrowed yukata.

"I know you for what you are. Don't mistake the other's weakness for trust. You are not one of us."

"No, I'm not."

His jaw clicked closed. Surprise registered in his eyes.

In the next moment, he was across the room, waiting in the doorway as thundering footsteps echoed down the hall. Kuwabara stuck his head around the doorframe. "Oy, shrimp. Genkai sent you, too?"

"Hn." He swiveled, raising one hand in a cold summons to follow. "Come, girl."

Straightening her yukata—and glad she'd not changed out of it when she'd tried to sleep—she followed after him. Kuwabara waited in the hall, his hands shoved deep in his pants pockets. Jovially, as if complimenting an old friend, he said, "Dang. You clean up good."

She ducked her head, ignoring his praise.

The men fell into step beside one another, Kuwabara rattling off details of some sort of overnight patrol. Kalanie strained not to hear him. She didn't want to know their secrets. She had enough of her own already.

They led her through the meeting room from the night before, down another hall, and into a cramped living room. Seating crowded the narrow space, two couches and a pair of matching armchairs jigsawed against the walls. Urameshi sprawled in one of the armchairs, muffling a yawn as they entered. "Too early for this shit."

" _Early_ is a concept that doesn't exist in war, Yusuke." Kurama sat on a couch, sharing the seat with Genkai. Nodding to the empty armchair, he said, "Morning, Kalanie. Sit, please."

She did as bidden, perching at the seat's edge. Her fingers knotted around the hems of her sleeves.

Grunting greetings, Kuwabara threw himself onto the remaining couch and stretched out his legs. The Jaganshi remained in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

Genkai cleared her throat. "We'll get right to it, then. You'll answer what you can and we'll start simple. Understood?"

"Yes."

"You're from Demon World?"

"Of course."

"Which territory?"

Kalanie kept her gaze locked resolutely on her knees. Urameshi had declared the very name of her home unsafe in the Jaganshi's presence, but that didn't change the truth. "Alaric."

Urameshi snapped his fingers. "The lord nonsense makes a bit more sense now."

The Jaganshi growled.

"Enough," Genkai said. "We've ground to cover. No dawdling. So if you're from Alaric, were you there for the Fall?"

"I can't say."

The old psychic frowned. "That's your code? Confirmation where you cannot otherwise give it? But could you do so in writing? In gestures?"

"No." She dug her nails into her palms. "I'm sorry. The binds forbid it. I can't tell you secrets by any means."

"Interesting," Kurama mused. "If I'm understanding right, the compulsion was phrased to stop the spreading of anything your subconscious deems secret. Seems an apt trap."

"Don't start with the damn riddles, Kurama. Keep this shit simple," Urameshi said. "Remember, Kuwabara's listening."

"Screw you, Urameshi! Just because you're an idiot doesn't mean I am!"

Kurama cleared his throat and Kuwabara trailed off. "To clarify, if Kalanie was compelled not to speak of specifics, there'd be loopholes. As in, if she were forbidden to tell someone her birthday, she could still tell them her half-birthday and they could extrapolate from there. But if she were forbidden to share personal details of any kind, she wouldn't be able to tell you either date." He turned back to her. "So the question becomes: whose secrets can't you tell? Yours? Or Masaru's?"

 _His_ name sent a spike of terror straight to her heart. The spirit cuffs burned bright as flames as her energy unraveled in her core, thrashing in answer to the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The telltale clink of the Jaganshi's katana withdrawing from its scabbard echoed in her ears.

She stamped down on her power. Its awakening had brought with it her body's desperate ache for iron. The beast prowled ever closer, ready to sink its claws into what fragments of her mind remained to her and shred her sanity to pieces. She _needed_ fresh iron. Soon. So she'd give them the answers they wanted—if only so they'd give into her demands in return.

"Both. All of it." She picked her next words with utmost care. "Anything to do with Project Shell and its participants."

The stillness that followed was so absolute Kalanie hardly dared breathe.

"Project Shell?"

Her throat threatened to close, her words catching on her tongue, but she pushed past it. Project Shell was common knowledge. Every demon in the Forest of Fools had known its name for weeks before the Fall. _She'd_ been the one to tell them. "Have you learned nothing? Are there no common apparitions in that tent camp of yours?"

"Only people we trust are here," Urameshi snapped. "We can't trust Demon World's filth."

Her tongue got the better of her. "Watch who you call filth, half-breed."

"Well, damn." Kuwabara lurched mometarily upright, staring at her with newfound appreciation. "The girl's got a spine after all."

"If you'd taken even a moment to listen to the low-class demons who flooded Human World, you'd already know Project Shell. The name, if not the details." She stilled the trembles in her hands. The edge she'd found wouldn't last. She needed to press her advantage while she had it. "You've had nineteen months, nearly two years, and you know nothing?"

"So what is it then?" Urameshi demanded. He rocked forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Share the knowledge."

"Weren't you listening? _I can't say_."

Genkai heaved a sigh. "These circles waste our time. Dimwits, shut up. Hiei, put away the damn sword. If Kalanie can't explain in depth, we'll frame questions so she can answer as she has been. To facilitate that, what will 'no' be?"

Kalanie hesitated. "I won't say?"

"Fair enough."

"But," Kalanie interrupted before the questions could start, "I need promises in return. You can't keep me here."

"We can't let you go either. Not into Human World." Kurama soft smile dimmed. "We can send you back—"

"No."

Urameshi scoffed. "Why the rush to leave? Maybe you'll find you like it here. If you help us, prove yourself, we could take those cuffs off. You could be our resident filth."

"I need to leave. There are people I need to meet. Promises I have to keep."

"Compulsions to obey?"

She met the Jaganshi's glare head on. "No."

"Enough," Genkai said. "You're in no position to make deals, girl. Give us information we can use. If it produces results, we can discuss rewards. Until then, you stay here and the cuffs stay on. There's no debate on the matter."

* * *

They kept at her for hours, Kurama and Genkai volleying question after question her way, the redhead marking her answers down on a pad of paper. At a certain point, she lost track of which pieces of the puzzle they'd already possessed and which they still fumbled for, but by the time Kurama had set aside his pen, they knew most of it.

Project Shell had brought about the Fall, and she'd participated in it, her will bent beneath Masaru's influence, though they could not begin to fathom her role and she refused to offer leads. They didn't deserve to know. Not about her. Nor Nomi.

When they pressed about Masaru, she confirmed he was little more than a field commander. He led fighters—minions bound by Sovereign Binds—in battle, but he wasn't the mastermind. That was a name she wouldn't have been able to give, even if she'd known it.

They'd already guessed that the territory that had once been Alaric had been home to Project Shell's base of operations—Urameshi took a twisted pleasure in mocking the Jaganshi for the Fall brewing directly under the fire demon's nose—but they hadn't realized the sheer strength in numbers their enemies possessed nor the breadth of the net they'd cast across Tourin and Gandara. And so, city by city, question by question, Kurama sketched a map of their enemies strongholds through Demon World.

Kalanie knew without seeing it herself how hopeless this encampment appeared by comparison.

Through it all, she gave them nothing they didn't ask for. Her information was the only bargaining chip she had left, and she couldn't part with anything she wasn't forced to. Until they promised her release in time for her approaching deadline, they were still her captors, no matter how reassuring Kurama's smiles or raucous Urameshi's laughter.

So she kept her secrets. The nearly six years of her life Masaru had stolen, not just from her, but from Nomi, too. How she'd managed to escape. And—most closely of all—Nomi and all that he meant to her.

"That's enough, then," Genkai declared, rising from her seat slowly. Kalanie marked the way the woman favored her right knee. An old lingering injury? Perhaps age was catching the psychic at last. "Make yourself at home, girl, but know that the barrier will keep you in as surely as it once kept you out. If you want to negotiate your freedom, I'd advise against escape attempts."

She stomped from the room without another word, brushing past the Jaganshi. Kurama swept out on her heels, bowing his head to Kalanie as he went. With a parting sneer, the Jaganshi followed suit.

"So half-breed, huh? I haven't heard that in a while."

"Urameshi—"

"Enough of that. Name's Yusuke, got it?"

She bit her lip sharp enough to draw blood. It beaded against her tongue. "All right, _Yusuke_ , half-breed is the truth, and if my kind is filth, then you'd best acknowledge the blood in your own veins."

"So what, you're some uppity demon-lover? We already have one of those in Hiei. No need for another."

Kuwabara barked a laugh. "The shrimp's superiority complex makes me want to pound his face in. Known the bastard six years now and he's still an asshole."

Yusuke spread his hands in question. "Well? Are you?"

"Blood doesn't define anyone."

"Always cryptic with the answers, aren't you?" He rose to his feet. "Whatever. But if you want to commiserate about humanity's general uselessness, Hiei's your guy. The rest of us don't have time for that shit."

Lacing his fingers behind his head, he strolled from the room. His trilling whistles echoed down the hall long after his footsteps faded.

"You know, we're not so bad," Kuwabara said after a beat. He still lay sprawled across the couch, his feet propped on one of its arms. "The hole was an improvisation. Probably not the best place we could have put you. But hey, the world's gone to hell, so cut us some slack, yeah?"

She had no answer for that. _Hell_ didn't begin to describe it.

A ringing had started in her ears, a dull, persistent warning. She swallowed stiffly. "If you won't release my energy, can you at least give me iron? Anything. I'll take a spoon if it has some iron in it."

He raised his brows, but shrugged and lurched to his feet. "Don't see why not."

As she trailed him into the hall, she glared down at her hands, at the Sovereign Binds that forever marked her broken. "And some gloves," she said. "The longer the better."

* * *

AN: I hope some of the pieces are starting to come together. Kalanie has hundreds of secrets and she's not so good at sharing, but I don't want the story to be too confusing either, so let me know if it's all too murky to follow!


	5. Rise Up

In the end, Kuwabara dug a pair of fuzzy, girly gloves out of a hall closet, then scooped a battered candlestick from a shelf and weighed it one hand. "Will this thing do?"

Biting her lip, she took it from him. Instantly, her demon energy crackled beneath her skin. It was still distant, trapped beneath the cuffs, but the candlestick would be enough. For now. "Thanks."

"Sure thing." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he rocked back on his heels. "That all you need?"

"Yes." Her gaze skittered to the distant door. The barrier might keep her trapped in the shrine's vicinity, but at least in the woods she wouldn't feel like such a caged animal. "I'm free to go outside, right?"

"Don't see why not. But maybe don't go near the encampment, yeah?"

She dipped her chin in acceptance, muttered another thanks, and hurried for the door. The kitchen flashed by on her left, a knot of her captors congregated around its table. Yusuke. Kurama. Botan and Keiko. As she stepped onto the porch, she heard Kuwabara join them, his boisterous voice booming.

The candlestick tucked in the crook of her arm, she tugged on the gloves and set her sights on the treeline. The branches closed overhead in a matter of steps, shadows dappling her shoulders.

Trekking to the barrier took longer than she'd anticipated. When Kuwabara and Kurama hauled her in, the trip had blurred into a snarl of pleading and bargaining, the exact duration lost behind the creeping certainty that she'd failed Nomi forever. Now, walking at her own pace, she'd guess the shield lay at least two miles south of the temple. If the shrine sat at the dome's center, the land the ex-detectives had claimed was larger than she might have guessed—though not by much.

"You can stop following me," she said as the barrier's blue light appeared between the trees ahead. "You heard the psychic. I can't escape."

In a streak of black, the Jaganshi appeared before her, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his cloak. "When did it start?"

She shouldered past him, striding straight to the barrier and leaning her forehead against it. Somewhere out there, the meeting point waited. Fifty miles at least. If she wanted to be truly ready, she'd need at least a day to get there—to assess the location, make sure it wasn't a trap.

Sighing, she turned back to the Jaganshi. "What are you on about?"

"When did Project Shell start?" His voice was flat and even, devoid of the raging anger he'd aimed her way up to now. "You say its public knowledge. So tell me, when did it start?"

Why did he care? When it started wasn't nearly as important as what it had done. Besides, there were no second chances, no opportunity to press undo and set the worlds back as they'd once been.

"Answer the question."

"I don't know. I became… entangled in it six years ago." She crossed her arms. Her throat had grown tight, but she batted that away. Project Shell's origins weren't secrets. Not as far as she was concerned. "But it had started long before then."

"Hn."

And she saw it then. Why he'd cared. Six years ago, he'd been a low-class demon. Not the heir to Alaric. "This was far greater than you," she said. "Maybe Mukuro should have seen it. Alaric was her land. I'd have thought she knew it better. None of us expected that of _you_."

Power snapped across his skin in answer, but she didn't back down or take it back.

No sense lying about the truth.

The barrier crackled behind her. It was the only sound for a long time. A minute. Five. All the while, the fire demon watched her. His gaze never left hers, but if she were to guess, she'd think he wasn't seeing her, not properly. He was trying to find her mind—or so the fluttering of his Jagan led her to believe.

The crunch of nearby footsteps disturbed him, and he blurred out of existence just as a short, blue-haired apparition emerged from a thicket of bushes. "There you are," she said softly. "I'm Yukina."

Kalanie bit down the urge to say she'd already known as much. Instead, she plucked at her yukata's sleeve. "Thank you for lending me this."

"Oh. Of course." The apparition stepped closer. In her hands, she cradled a wicker basket, steam rising between the cracks in its lid. "I thought you might be hungry."

The mere thought of food hot enough to steam sent a pang rolling through Kalanie's stomach. "You thought right."

With a pleased smile, Yukina reached within her basket and produced a small blanket. She spread it across the underbrush and fallen leaves, then settled atop it. "Come sit."

All too aware the Jaganshi must not have run far, Kalanie sat. She curled her legs beneath her, as mindful of not damaging the yukata as she could be. For a time, they sat in quiet, Yukina producing canisters of noodles and fresh bread from the basket. She waited wordlessly as Kalanie ate, her gaze flitting about the trees, though more often than not, Kalanie felt it settle on her.

"Thank you," she murmured as she set aside her empty canister. "It was delicious."

"You think so?"

The glimmer of surprised pride in the apparition's voice nearly brought a smile to Kalanie's lips. "I do."

After a beat, Yukina murmured, "I hope our treatment of you hasn't been too horrible. I… I was a prisoner once. To a cruel man. I would not wish that on anyone."

Kalanie gripped her candlestick between vice-like fingers. "If anything, you've been too accepting. I'm not safe. I'm not trustworthy."

"Because of the Sovereign Binds?"

"Yes."

"But they are not you, and the man who gave them to you isn't here."

Kalanie laughed hollowly. "That doesn't matter, yet only the Jaganshi seems to realize it."

"Hiei?" Yukina turned to face her, her crimson eyes wide and uncertain. "Kazuma had mentioned Hiei does not trust you, and last night… I have never seen him so riled outside of a fight. He is usually so restrained."

Running a nail across the candlestick's grooves, Kalanie looked to the trees. Sure enough, she spotted the fire demon crouched upon a branch, his katana in hand, as if ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"I get it," she said, her gaze locked with his. No doubt he could hear their every word. "His Jagan lets him sense minds. Read them if he pleases. How long has he lived that way, able to see the thoughts of anyone nearby? But he can't do that with me. My mind is not just shielded against him; rather it doesn't exist at all."

She shoved to her feet. "You all should remember that. My mind _does not exist_. Not like all of yours. I control it now, but I may not forever. If _he_ finds me…" She shook her head and started walking, trailing a hand along the barrier, feeling its buzzing energy through her glove. "Thank you again, Yukina. You're too kind.

* * *

By her third night, she gave up on the mattress.

After so long sleeping in protected hollows or curled between the roots of sprawling trees, the bed was too unfamiliar. Worse, it reminded her of before. Of the nights she'd spent on the cot at the end of _his_ bed.

The night before, Botan had realized she hadn't given Kalanie anything to sleep in, and she burst into the bedroom, a bundle of pajamas in her arms, only to find Kalanie curled in the corner, a pillow behind her head and the sheets wound around her body. Startled, Botan lay the pajamas on the bed—beside the yukata Kalanie had already shed—and retreated with a mumbled goodnight.

This night, there were no interruptions. Just the moonlight slanting through the curtains, painting her silver as she threw her energy against the spirit cuffs. She couldn't sleep until she'd worn them down. Piece by piece, night by night, she'd claw against their hold—whatever it took until she was free. And so, her candlestick clutched in her hands, rust flaking from its shaft, she tore at the cuffs' strength until her eyelids drooped.

When sleep came, she slept without dreams.

* * *

Yusuke asked a million questions.

"Did you try to kill him? I mean, that's what I'd do first, if someone tried to turn me into their mindless slave."

Kalanie frowned into the mug of mud-brown liquid they'd given her. _Coffee_ , Kurama had said. She'd never smelled anything so bitter. "That's always his first compulsion. No killing him. No maiming. No hiring someone else to do it instead."

"Okay, fine, but then you must have torn him a new one? Verbally. Cursed him out? Hiei knows some brutal Demon World swears. You must have—"

"Forbidden."

She refused to meet his eyes, nor those of the audience she'd garnered . All she'd wanted was breakfast, something to quiet her stomach while she walked the barrier, looking for weakness—for anything that would get her free of this place. Instead, she'd become their morning entertainment. The ex-detectives. Their women. The boy demon Rinku.

He was worst of all.

He reminded her too strongly of Nomi.

Rocking back in his chair, Yusuke drummed his fingers on the table. "So what? You had _no_ free will? Not a stitch?"

"Not if it didn't please him."

"That's screwed up."

She rolled a shoulder in a half-shrug.

"What's the deal with this?"

He'd picked up her candlestick. Six days in her hands and it was already covered in rust. If he applied too much pressure, the shaft would crack in half.

She picked at the core of the apple Yukina had offered as food. The weight of so many eyes made her skin crawl. "I can control metal—iron, specifically. But I also need it. To channel my energy. Keep it contained. If I go too long without contact with iron…" _The beast comes_.

That's what Nomi had always called it.

He was so much stronger than her, his energy nearly boundless. But with that great strength came great weakness. His need for iron always outweighed her own. The candlestick wouldn't have lasted a day in his hands.

Yusuke snapped his fingers in front her face. "Hey, Earth to slave-girl. If you don't have iron, what?"

"I lose my mind."

He snorted. "Thought you'd already lost that."

"It's different."

As Yusuke's mouth opened, some new question or insult ready to roll off his tongue, Kurama stepped forward, casting the half-breed a sharp look. "I've heard of your kind. Your power levels are dependent on the resources available to you, correct?"

She sensed a trap. "Yes."

"So the power Kuwabara and I felt in you before the cuffs—that wouldn't be your full strength?"

"No."

He sighed. His eyes were kind, even as his words cut her to the bone. "You see, then, why we can't remove the cuffs? I know you want us to. But until we can be sure it's safe for you to be here—"

"It isn't," she said. The room shifted instantly, as if not a soul dared breathe. She soldiered on. "It won't ever be. So don't keep me here. I've answered what I can. There's nothing more I can do for you. Take off these cuffs, drag me into the mountains, and set me free. I swear, you'll never see me again."

"And what happens if Masaru finds you? You've been within our walls. You know too many of our secrets."

It was her turn to snort. "They already know all this. You have no secrets."

Kurama's brow creased. "Explain."

"They've studied you. All of you. For years. It's why I knew you all already." She grabbed her candlestick from Yusuke's hands and clutched it close, swallowing down the compulsion rising to clog her throat. "They know everything about you. Your allies. Your powers. Did you know the Dark Tournament was filmed? Every fight. Every technique. I've watched it all. Twice. And every demon in this forsaken world knows where this temple is. If Masaru wanted to take this place, he'd have marched on it already. So set me free. I've no secrets of yours to keep anyway."

Yusuke's chair thunked back onto all four legs. "Not happening. Nice try though. You're great at the spooky stories."

He shoved to his feet and strolled from the kitchen, his hands laced behind his head. Nonchalant, for all intents and purposes. But she saw straight through it to the unease beneath. The same anxiety rippled through the room, a nervous fearful energy. One by one, her audience filed into the hall, subdued, the laughter that had followed them in an hour before long gone.

In the end, only the Jaganshi remained.

As he had every day, he followed her out to the yard, into the trees, all the way to the barrier. Then he trailed her. For hours. From sunup to sundown. Watching her with his true eyes since he could not with his Jagan.

She needed him to slip up. To grow distracted. If she were to find a means of escape, she'd need a moment to herself, some time to think, but he was always there, like a shadow stitched to her heels.

After the first day, he never spoke again. She tried to engage him once, prattling about the dinner Yukina had cooked the shrine's occupants the night before, hoping she might annoy him, drive him away somehow.

It hadn't worked.

It seemed nothing would.

* * *

On her tenth night, she made a breakthrough.

It was as her eyes fluttered shut, sleep coming to claim her at last, that she felt the flicker. Her last wild assault against the cuffs sent a fissure through them, cracking their hold upon her energy. In her next breath, she was wide awake, stamping her power down into the deepest crevices of her soul.

The cuffs remained intact, still circling her wrists, gleaming atop the ridiculous gloves Kuwabara had given her, but one push and they would give out. Which meant her time had come. She had to make a move. Now. Before the cuffs died entirely or she slipped up and revealed the return of her power.

Padding to the door, she pressed an ear against the wood. No one moved outside.

The night had been a quiet one. When she'd come in at sundown, the ex-detectives had been huddled together in the kitchen, muttering over some matter she knew better than to interfere with. Not long after, Kurama and the Jaganshi had disappeared. Where to, she had no idea.

If they were still gone, now was her chance to test the barrier. Snap her cuffs and throw her will against it. Or better yet, check the ground beneath it. When they'd trapped her in their prison pit, the barrier had extended on all six sides, covering not just the walls but also the floor and ceiling. Though the greater barrier arced high into the sky overhead, she'd never sensed anything beneath her feet. If she'd had a moment alone, she would have tested it before, but with the Jaganshi trailing her every step, she'd had no chance.

Now she did.

She left the bedroom in her pajamas, padding down the hall as if headed for the bathroom. The flannel pants clung to her legs and the shirt was too big, nearly cumbersome, but both were better than the confines of the yukata. If she were to succeed, she'd need speed on her side.

Nothing stirred in the hall nor the meeting room beyond it, and she crossed to the door without incident. Barefoot but for a set of stockings, she eased open the door and stepped onto the porch.

The night was nearly silent. Only an owl hooting in the distance disturbed the stillness. Hardly daring to breathe, she leapt down the steps and slunk to the trees. The branches closed around her, blotting out the moon, and her eyes adjusted slowly.

It was only then, as the darkness threatened to swallow her, that she sensed it. The soft murmur of voices off to her left followed by a surge of power. An orange sword burst to life, flaring between the tree trunks, and a moment later, Kuwabara's hazy silhouette cleaved a hole between worlds.

Kalanie didn't wait to watch who emerged. She burst into a sprint, hurling her energy against the spirit cuffs and shattering their last tenuous hold on her. Instantly her power returned, her senses sharpening. Energy signals snapped into focus around her, and she recognized strength that could only belong to Kurama and the Jaganshi emerging from the portal.

But more energies followed. Warped. Broken. _Bound._

Her heart churned into overdrive as she skidded to a halt before the barrier. She dropped to her knees, scrabbling at the earth, scooping dirt away from the shield wall. As she clawed a rock loose, her hopes were confirmed. Mere inches beneath the surface the barrier terminated. She could dig beneath it.

And she would. Before Masaru's puppets found her.

Seizing a tendril of her power, she plunged her hands into the soil and called for the iron that dwelled deep beneath the earth, but just as metal answered, the ground trembling beneath her touch, a scream shattered the night. High-pitched and clear as a tolling bell. Immediately recognizable.

Kalanie faltered.

 _Yukina._

* * *

AN: Dun dun dun!

Okay, so some answers here at last. A bit of an explanation about Kalanie's need for iron. She depends on it to channel her power.

And now some housekeeping: you might have noticed that I've changed my chapter titles. This story has basically become a landing point for all my various obsessions at the moment, including YYH, Jessica Jones (if Masaru's powers sound familiar, you can look to Jessica Jones for as to why!), and now the Broadway musical Hamilton. Nothing of Hamilton will make it into the story (because um, how would I possible mash together a play about one of America's founding fathers with YYH?), but I'm going to be using a lot of my favorite lines as chapters titles. The connections may not be obvious, and that's fine! I just wanted to do something a little fun for me :)

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed or favorited or added this story to their alerts. I love hearing from you all! I hope you enjoy this chapter, too. The story is about to really start getting into motion!


	6. Strike by Night

The screams continued, and despite herself, Kalanie sent her senses spiking into the trees, searching for the gentle apparition's power source. She was close, somewhere off to Kalanie's left.

The same direction as the detectives.

Snarling, Kalanie shook her head and threw her power into the earth. Iron answered her call, surging from its confines deep below the surface. The detectives would save Yukina. Kuwabara would never let her die. She didn't need Kalanie. She'd be fine.

The soil erupted around her, iron snaking upward in molten streams. It twined about her arms and slid beneath her pants, sheathing her legs in fluid steel. With it came ever more power. Her energy double. Then tripled.

It was no effort at all to clear a crawl space beneath the barrier. One shove of her iron and dirt billowed from a hole. She scrambled beneath it and shimmied her way free.

 _Free_.

Again.

How many times in her life would she flee into the night?

But Yukina was still screaming, and she was drawing closer now. Fast enough that she must have been running.

Why weren't the detectives saving her? What in the three worlds could be more important?

Every stitch of self-preservation in Kalanie's body shrieked for her to flee. This was her chance to get away. She'd never have another. If they caught her, they'd never trust her again. She'd go back in their pit— _if_ the Jaganshi didn't kill her instead.

But a bigger part of her, the part that had been alone for months—or, in truth, for years—held her trapped in place. Yukina's kindness wormed beneath her skin. The basket of food she'd offered when even Kalanie had forgotten her own hunger. The soft, gentle smiles she gave each time they passed in the shrine's halls.

And so Kalanie found herself turning, diving back into the hole she'd carved, scrabbling out on the other side just as the apparition burst from the trees in a flurry of silks. A demon raced on her heels, his arms marred by Sovereign Binds, the ink stark even against his dusky red skin.

"Yukina! Get behind me!"

Her voice caught both their attention, and as Yukina stumbled to Kalanie's side, her pursuer staggered. His large eyes blinked dumbly. "Kalanie?"

She sank into a crouch. Her iron rippled over her skin, an ever-shifting shield. "What are you doing here, Akio?"

"You're supposed to be dead. He said you were dead."

"He lied. He does that."

"But how?" His gaze shifted to her arms, no doubt searching for her Binds. "No one escapes—"

"Akio," she growled. A low warning. The last he'd get. "Why are you here?"

"They came for us. The fox and the Jaganshi. Attacked our camp at the Wailing Waters. He sent us after them."

 _Us_.

She cast her awareness in a wider net. Beyond Akio's warped power and Yukina trembling at her back, she felt her captors, blazing like flames in the night, and all around them, numbering in the dozens, the twisted signals of Masaru's puppets. So many. More than he'd ever controlled at once.

No wonder the detectives hadn't gotten to Yukina in time. They were mired in their own fight.

Her delay had allowed Akio's surprise to settle. She recognized the moment the compulsion seized him, clawing its way back to the surface. She hadn't been the enemy, seeing her had rattled _his_ order, but Akio's gaze had shifted back to Yukina and his consciousness was fading.

"Akio, don't do this. Run. Now."

"Can't."

He lurched into a fighting stance. His eyes glazed over as his energy spilled across his skin. She hadn't recalled his technique, but as electricity sparked between his claws, she remembered.

"Go, Yukina! Back to the shrine."

Akio threw up a hand, lightning arcing from his palm, and Kalanie hurled a wave of iron to intercept it. The metal flowed from her arm, spreading into a thin but impenetrable shield. His attack struck its center. Sparks skittered across the iron, racing back to her.

The shock of them left her gasping but as Akio sprinting after Yukina's fleeing form, Kalanie gaze chase. She called to more iron as she ran. It surged from the earth, spiking in his path, slowing his pace.

Distantly, she was cognizant of the Jaganshi's power breaking off from the fight in the trees, Kuwabara's not far behind, but there was no time to double back and escape. Yukina might not survive that long.

She caught Akio as they hit the clearing before the shrine. Her momentum sent them both tumbling. Electricity popped and crackled between them, shattering through her muscles. Her grip on her iron weakened, but she forced the bit gloving her hand into a knife.

It settled against his throat.

"Do it," he gasped even as his fists pummeled her ribs. "Kill me. I'll never escape if you don't."

An involuntary whimper tore from her lips. The world was spinning, blackening at the edges. His electricity was everywhere. It was destroying her. Killing her—

"Do it!"

She plunged the knife deep, severing his jugular. His blood spurted across her face, burning her eyes, copper against her tongue. He spasmed once, then went still. The electricity coating his skin dissipated.

Panting, she rolled off of him. Iron pooled all around her, growing solid and still as she released her grip on it. Only the pieces sheathing her skin remained fluid.

"Yukina! My love!"

Kuwabara streaked past, his spirit sword blazing in his hand. As his declarations of love boomed through the clearing, a shadow slanted across her. The Jaganshi's eyes were unreadable. Void of anything she might label emotion.

She waited for his katana, for a stab through the heart or perhaps through the jugular to match Akio's corpse. It never came.

Instead, wordlessly, he extended a hand and hauled her to her feet.

* * *

"You saved me."

Pulling free of the Jaganshi, Kalanie dragged her sleeve across her face and spat Akio's blood into the grass. She was still braced for a fight, for a new set of spirit cuffs to appear and attempt to shackle her freedom, but it was neither Kuwabara nor the Jaganshi who was rushing toward her.

Having wriggled free of Kuwabara's arms, Yukina reached Kalanie and dipped a polite bow. "Thank you," she murmured.

Kalanie shifted uncomfortably. "Enough souls have perished at _his_ hands. You didn't need to join them." She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could forget the desperation in Akio's voice as he begged for death. "He wanted this—to be free."

"Huh? This was one of those guys like you?" Kuwabara crouched beside Akio's body and poked a finger at his arm. "No marks though."

"They fade. After death. Then _he_ gets his power back."

"Why do you always do that? Enunciate 'he' all weird."

Hiei stalked forward. With a booted foot, he prodded Akio's head to the side, revealing the deep slash Kalanie had torn through his throat. "Idiot. Would you speak your abuser's name?"

Abuser. How aptly put.

"Don't talk down to me, shrimp. I'll kick your ass."

"No. You won't."

Ignoring them, Yukina reached for Kalanie's arm. "Are you hurt? I can heal you. It's the least I can do."

"I'm fine. The blood's his, not mine."

And hell, there was a lot of it. Her clothes were ruined, stained crimson and burnt in places Akio's electricity had scorched. If she weren't on edge, perhaps she'd have thought better of turning Yukina away. Her battered ribs and smarting skin might have appreciated the healing, but she couldn't focus enough to take her refusal back.

She was too certain she'd ruined her chances. They'd glimpsed her power now. Surely spirit cuffs weren't far off. Never mind that they would discover how she'd attempted to leave. Unless they were fools, by morning the barrier would no doubt extend deep into the mountain itself. There'd be no digging her way beneath it.

It was perhaps the Jaganshi's sudden lack of hostility that frightened her most. For days, he'd faced her with outright distrust, violence simmering always just a moment away. Yet now, after she'd shattered her spirit cuffs, directly disobeying their orders, he was offering his hand and fending off Kuwabara's questions.

Something had changed.

But she couldn't begin to fathom what.

In the forest at their backs, Kalanie sensed the last of the puppets fall before an energy blast. A moment later, Yusuke burst from the trees yelling, "She broke her cuffs! You felt that right! The forest is a mess—"

"Hn, quiet fool. We're aware."

Kurama appeared at Hiei's side, leaping down from the branches of a tree. He chuckled softly. "Yes, I'd say you are."

Kuwabara had sidled up to Yukina and looped an arm around her shoulder, but she squirmed free of him yet again. "Kalanie saved me. I was walking in the trees. I shouldn't have been."

"Not true, my love. It's not your fault this happened." Hands on his hips, elbows jutting outward, Kuwabara leaned squarely into the Jaganshi's face. "I'm willing to bet it's your fault, isn't it, Hiei?"

"Both of ours, I'm afraid," Kurama said. He turned appraising eyes to Kalanie. "We thought we might use your insight, gain ourselves an advantage, but it seems we underestimated your warnings."

Kalanie sighed. Her bones felt heavy as lead. Sinking into a crouch, she pressed her fingers over Akio's eyes, shuttering his eyelids. _Goodbye, friend._ " _He_ must have been there. At the Wailing Waters." She turned to meet the redhead's gaze. "I hadn't seen Akio in a year, but he's always been stationed there. He was in charge of _his_ puppets." She raised a hand, her iron rolling back to reveal her Sovereign Binds. Akio had been her closest ally. One of the few _he_ exerted his influence over as strongly as he did Kalanie. "But for them to follow you back through the portal… _He_ would've needed to be there. To give the fresh order. You must hear his voice for a compulsion to take hold."

"We saw him." Hiei clenched and unclenched his fist absently, his focus somewhere far away. "Weak, wretch of a beast."

"Every time he casts the Binds, a piece of his energy goes with the spell. I've never seen him control more than twenty puppets at a time." She stood and wrapped her arms about her middle. "He must have been stretched thin, controlling as many souls as he was."

"Do you count among that number?" Yusuke asked. "Even though you're here."

"Until these markings are gone, he controls me."

"Hence why you still cannot speak his secrets," Kurama said. He rubbed his chin in thought. "How then do the Binds disappear?"

"Death. Mine. His. Or if he chooses to release someone."

"Yet he's kept hold of you? Rather than take back his energy."

"Whatever drain I cause is a price he'd pay tenfold." The words exhausted her, the broken, haunting truth too much for her to bear any longer. Each movement precise and calculated, she released her arms and extended them straight forward. "Cuff me. Put me back in your hole. Whatever it is you intend—"

Yusuke laughed so hard he started coughing, doubling over and slapping a hand against his knee. "You saved Yukina. Gave us real information on this bastard Masaru. Why in the hell would we imprison you again?" His shoulders still rolling with mirth, he shoved his bloodied hands in his pockets and started for the shrine. "I'm going to bed. We'll get rid of the dead in the morning."

She stared after him, dumbfounded.

Kurama chuckled. "We're not monsters, Kalanie, despite what your initial treatment might suggest."

"Or the bullshit demons say," Kuwabara added. "Bunch of liars." Muttering under his breath, he curled an arm around Yukina and led her toward the shrine.

The apparition looked back over her shoulder. "Thank you again, Kalanie. My offer stands, if you change your mind."

"I'm sorry you had to kill one of your kind," Kurama said once they'd disappeared inside, his gaze on Akio. "I'm sure he understood you in a way we may never. Thank you for choosing our side rather than his."

"Akio had no side. There was your side and there was Masaru's." Speaking his name was like spitting up glass. The Jaganshi's head swiveled to her as she said it, but she ignored his cutting gaze. "Akio had no say."

"Which changes everything," Kurama said, "but also nothing." Bidding her goodnight with a bob of his chin, he strolled toward the temple, the Jaganshi a step behind, and then she was alone once more, nothing but the wind howling in her ears.

* * *

The rules of her confinement changed.

The spirit cuffs were gone. Iron was hers once more, whenever she pleased, though Genkai had requested—demanded, really—that she refrain from tearing up the psychic's lands in her quest for more ore.

But cuffs or not, the barrier remained.

Just as she anticipated, they lengthened it. To her face, they said nothing of her escape attempt. In fact, Kuwabara went out of his way to prattle on about the weakness they'd discovered, the opportunity for enemies to sneak beneath their defenses. But she knew better. The barrier's extension was meant to contain her. Whatever trust she garnered wasn't enough. As kind as they acted, she was still their captive.

No amount of smiles or laughter would alter that.

* * *

"Perhaps I misjudged you."

"Perhaps you didn't."

The Jaganshi leapt from a tree branch, landing beside Kalanie on silent feet, dirt puffing up around his boots. "You should spend more time with Yusuke. You speak the same stubborn tongue."

Leaning against a thick tree trunk, her boots mere feet from the crackling barrier, Kalanie stared steadfastly through the shield. She refused to look up at the demon. She wouldn't give him that pleasure. "I thought I could trust you to see the truth about me. Maybe it's _I_ who misjudged _you_."

"Hn. Then don't try so hard to convince me you're a liability."

"What?"

"If you meant us harm, you wouldn't broadcast it so loudly."

Despite herself, Kalanie looked up. His face was an expressionless mask—or at least the side of it she could see was. His focus seemed to have followed where hers had once been, roving beyond the barrier.

"I could be deceiving—"

"You aren't. I'm not a fool. Again, spend time with Yusuke if you're looking for an idiot." He shoved his hands deep into the folds of his cloak as he turned to face her. "What's out there? You're always looking east. Why?"

"I'm supposed to meet someone—or some _ones_ , maybe. I don't know the details for sure." She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. In the week since she'd saved Yukina, she'd worked up the nerve to ask for clothing other than secondhand yukatas. The pants and long-sleeved shirts she'd received instead were far less restrictive, even if they did pale compared to the leather jacket the Jaganshi had ruined. "Ten days from now. If I don't—"

A compulsion seized her so violently she retched. Gasping, she grabbed her throat.

The Jaganshi watched her struggle through narrowed eyes. "Secrets?"

She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

 _If I don't, Nomi will be lost forever._ That's what she'd wanted to say. Nomi. She hadn't been able to so much as whisper his name for sixteen months. Not since _he_ took it from her, sick of her crying long into the night, waking from nightmares with Nomi's name on her tongue.

"Your master—"

She was on her feet in seconds, iron writhing across her fist as she seized the Jaganshi's cloak. "I have no master."

He stared down the long plane of his nose at her. Calm and unruffled. "You do. You're his dog." His gaze dropped to her iron-coated wrists. "And those marks are your collar. Your leash. Your chain."

She released him with a shove, but he barely moved, one foot sliding only an inch through the dirt. "If I've a master, why the change in your judgment?"

"Hn, I misjudged _you_ , but not the threat you represent."

She nearly laughed. Hell, he was a bastard. "Then you realize you can't let your guard down. Ever. No matter how long you keep me here. No matter how many times I fight _his_ puppets. If he finds me, if he says so much as a single command, none of it matters."

He watched her a heartbeat longer, his gaze unreadable, his features unmoving. Then he turned, his cloak flowing behind him as he walked into the woods. "I'm aware."

Before he disappeared between the trees, she called after him, "I'm getting out of here! In time for my deadline. I'm going to be free. Of you. Of this barrier. Of all of it."

He never turned, but his voice drifted back to her, echoing in her ears long after he was gone. "Even a beaten dog can break its chains."

* * *

AN: This chapter was SO MUCH FUN to write. Seriously. Action. The beginnings of trust. Hiei interactions. Fun, fun, fun! I hope it's equally fun for all of you to read!

So far, I'd been updating every other day, but I think I want to slow down a bit. Do something more like twice a week. Maybe Wednesdays and Saturdays? I actually have through Chapter 11 written, but I'm going to be SUPER busy during December, so I have no idea if I'll be able to keep writing really regularly. Slowing down my update schedule will help me make sure I don't need to go on a hiatus.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! It's such a blast to hear your thoughts!


	7. A Bit of a Posture, A Bit of a Stance

"They'll know we're coming now. We can't sneak attack again."

"No way, Urameshi! I can get you in anywhere. Name a place. I'll open the portal. They'll never predict—"

"Enough drivel, fool."

Kalanie hesitated in the temple's back hallway. She'd wanted to find a quiet room, somewhere to ride out the storm raging outside. Instead, it seemed she'd stumbled on a war meeting.

The door of the room the detectives had huddled in was propped open, a green jacket balled on the floor caught in the jamb. Through the gap, she spotted a map hung on the wall. Pins were stuck across its surface. She recognized the locations instantly—the Forest of Fools, the Wailing Waters, the Shattered Sands. Her breath caught in her teeth, she stepped closer, peering through the gap.

A handful of blue tacks peppered the map, no more than half a dozen. In the capitals of the once great territories, atop the Haunted Hills, and deep in the murkiest reaches of the Forest of Fools. The only Demon World holdouts against the minions of the Fall.

In contrast, red pins dominated the terrain. There were those she expected—cities and villages she'd named when the detectives interrogated her—but many others, too. Places she never would have dreamed would give in to the likes of _him_.

"You know, you're a shit spy."

She startled, jerking away from the door when Yusuke shoved his face into the crack. He stuck out his tongue, but tugged the door open and gestured her inside. "Come on. Enough standing around. You know more than any of us. Get in here and tell us something."

Hesitant, knowing she might be overstepping her bounds, she crossed the threshold. The room was no better furnished than her own, but as Urameshi shoved her to the bed, she spotted a black cloak hanging in the closet and a spare scabbard propped in the corner. The Jaganshi's bedroom.

It had been four days since he'd announced his changed opinion of her—and in turn, four days since she'd seen him in the trees beyond her room watching her sleep with hawk-like intensity. Perhaps he'd actually slept in his own bed.

That would make one of them.

Settling uneasily onto the mattress, she surveyed their map. "I didn't realize so many places had fallen."

"They killed Enki yesterday," Yusuke said, glaring at a red pin stuck in the palace the demon king had once ruled from. "Can't believe the damn bastard lost."

Kuwabara stuck out a finger. "Stop moping. He'd stopped responding to our messages anyway. We don't need him."

"Not true, Kuwabara." Kurama was pensive, even by his usual standards. No trace of the gentle smile she'd grown used to clung about his lips. "We need every number we can get. Every ally. No matter how tenuous the connection. If we're to seal off the worlds, we need help on both sides of the barrier."

"Seal off the worlds?" The question fell from her lips unbidden. A panic she hadn't intended tinged the words, and Kurama looked to her with curious eyes. Try though she might, she couldn't find an excuse to cover her slip.

To return the barrier could mean only one thing: the destruction of Project Shell.

"I don't think that's possible," she said, nearly breathless.

Kurama's brow creased. "We believe you're wrong. You see, Hiei and I did not go to the Wailing Waters simply to fight Masaru's puppets. We went for these." He pulled a folder off the top of the Jaganshi's bureau and handed it to her. "Project Shell is a machine, and machines can malfunction. Be taken offline. Terminated. Once it is, we have every reason to believe the barrier will return."

Numb, barely managing to go through the motions, Kalanie thumbed through the pages. Schematics. Diagrams. Operation manuals. Strings of code. _Everything_. They had everything.

But not the piece that mattered to her.

She needed to leave this place, to get back to Nomi. Now. There could be no more delay. She had only six days to get to the meeting place. Then she could make the deal. She'd do whatever they wanted. _Anything_ if she could get him back.

She shoved off the bed. "I can't do this. Help you. Not if you're going to destroy Project Shell."

"The hell?" Yusuke whirled on her, his hands clenching into fists. "That damn machine destroyed the world. Scratch that, it destroyed the _worlds_. Because it isn't just Human World they jacked up. Yeah, we're screwed here, but Demon World is just as fucked. It needs to be destroyed—"

"I'm sorry. I can't."

"Why?" The Jaganshi had stepped forward, at last leaving the corner where he'd hunkered against the wall.

How to explain?

She'd wanted to avoid the truth, to keep this biggest of secrets hers forever, but maybe that wasn't possible. Maybe in trying to protect him, she was doing Nomi a disservice, because if she didn't escape this shrine, she'd have failed him.

Which meant it was time to lay her cards on the table. Best she could, at least.

"They have my brother."

It was as though the air had been sucked from the room. No one moved. No one breathed. There was only stillness, the truth hanging in the spaces between her heartbeats, drumming along with her pulse.

 _They_ had Nomi. Masaru and whatever monster he worked for, the unnamed fiend she'd never met. Some secrets had been kept even from her.

"For years," she said when she couldn't handle the silence any longer. "As long as Masaru had me. And terminating Project Shell… It's not just killing a machine. You'd kill him, too."

Yusuke whistled, low and quiet. "Well damn. Your whole sulky, brooding deal always smacked of Hiei, but this… Damn. Seriously."

She had no idea what that meant. Judging by Kuwabara's bewildered expression, neither did he. But the Jaganshi had stiffened, his demon energy sparking across his skin as he glared the detective down. "Shut up."

Kurama held up a hand, silencing them all. "Why would your brother die? It's a machine, Kalanie. We wouldn't kill him, not if we didn't have to. Even if Masaru pits him against us. I promise you that. "

He didn't understand.

"He's not under the Sovereign Binds. He won't be fighting you." Iron writhed across her arms. It crept higher, sliding over her shoulders, skimming up her neck—a protective shield ensconcing her against this final truth. "Destroying Project Shell would be destroying him. Literally. Because he's it. _He's_ the Shell."

In the ensuing quiet, all she could think of was Nomi—of the last time she'd seen him, hooked into that hellish machine, wired and intubated until she could hardly recognize him. And she'd been helpless—powerless—to protect him. _He_ hadn't let her. Instead, he'd made her smile. Wave. Walk away from her brother without so much as looking back.

On the darkest nights, she still heard Nomi sobbing.

* * *

The detectives called a meeting.

Every last one of their inner circle appeared, flooding into the shrine, their shoulders splattered with rain. Seated at the kitchen table, Kalanie watched them file down the hall.

All these souls she hardly knew, intending to pass judgment on Nomi's life, to decide whether she deserved the chance to save him. Despite all their claims of trusting her, their assurances that keeping her within the barrier was as much to keep her from _him_ as it was to protect themselves, reality remained unchanged—she was still their prisoner.

She'd laid out the rest of the pieces for the men. Not about Nomi's role in Project Shell—the compulsions guarding the secrets she knew were too strong for that—but about the meeting she was meant to have in just six short days.

Mazou—the demon who'd contacted her a week before Kalanie abandoned the human city in favor of the mountains—had been an old friend. From before. Before _he_ took her. Before the Fall. Kalanie hadn't seen her in years, until one day she walked into a Human World bar—ransacked and controlled by low-strength scum—and suddenly Mazou had been there.

She'd ushered Kalanie into a booth and in halting whispers offered her an opportunity she'd never expected to surface. One she wasn't ready for. Not then.

Mazou's employer was planning a heist of a vault in Gandara. They needed four months to get together the necessary demons, and they wanted Kalanie to be part of their team. Her ability to manipulate iron would let her melt through any vault in the three worlds—or so Mazou seemed convinced.

In exchange, they'd get her into the stronghold housing Project Shell.

Mazou knew Nomi. He'd practically been her little brother, too. Hearing her say his name had broken Kalanie. It had been so long. She'd nearly forgotten what it sounded like said aloud.

But it had been little more than days since she'd escaped _him_. The thought of reentering Demon World, let along attempting to breach one of their strongholds had been more than her shattered mind could handle. She'd barely begun to find the pieces of herself again.

So she'd turned them down.

Mazou had insisted she not make her final decision yet. She set a deadline, a day for them to meet in the abandoned train station at the base of these mountains. Then she'd disappeared, stalking into the night as if she'd been little more than a dream.

For a while, Kalanie convinced herself Mazou was exactly that—a figment of her ravaged, ruined mind. But she wasn't, and the opportunity she presented was one Kalanie couldn't turn down. No matter how certain her likelihood of failure.

Outside, thunder cracked. A streak of lightning forked past the window, turned green by the distant barrier's shimmering blue energy.

Kalanie fiddled with her candlestick. It was little more than a rusted rod now, all the details flaked away after days clutched in her hungry grip. A flash of black in the corner of her vision stilled her hands.

"Does this brother of yours have a name?"

"Shouldn't you be busy plotting my fate?"

The Jaganshi yanked back the chair to her left, its legs squealing against the floor. He slouched into it and crossed his arms over his chest. "I already know what they're going to decide."

"Oh, do you?"

"What's his name? If he exists, surely he has a name."

"Listen, Jaganshi—"

"Hn. Hiei."

His tone was flat and calm. Emotionless. Yet there was something in it she couldn't put a name to, something that drew her eyes to his.

"Hiei," she said slowly, testing its feel on her tongue. It was bizarre to call him by no title. This demon she'd been coerced to hate for six long years.

 _His_ primary objective in the months before the Fall was the dissemination of information throughout Alaric, sewing rumors amongst the common apparitions living near the border between worlds, a job made immensely more difficult by the border patrol the Jaganshi—Hiei—commanded. _He_ had fantasized of killing the fire demon endlessly. Or better yet, seizing his mind as he had seized Kalanie's.

"He hated you," she said after a moment. "More than Mukuro. More than Yusuke or Yomi. The patrols you led made his—our—task nearly impossible." She glanced sidelong at him, taking in the angles of his face, the handsome cut of his jaw, the strong planes of his cheeks. "You caught one of his puppets once. Xien. He was an old fool, half-senile, even before _he_ took his mind. One day, Xien left for his assignment, same as any morning. Two weeks later, I watched you execute him on a public stage. For weeks, I dreamed it was me you killed instead. I dreamed _I_ was the one who'd been set free."

Hiei remained silent. Something had clouded his eyes, but like the emotion that had hidden in his voice, she could put no name to it. Pity? Disgust? Or, dare she think it, understanding?

Now that she'd started talking, it seemed she couldn't stop. "That was before they took—" A compulsion choked Nomi's name into silence. She snarled and started again. "That was before they took my brother. Separated us. I'd thought if I were dead, _he'd_ have no use for him. I never realized they planned for him to be the Shell."

Hiei's fingers flexed into a fist. Relaxed. Then flexed again. "You've still not said his name."

"I can't. _He_ forbade me to."

"To speak it?"

Wordlessly, she nodded.

In three powerful strides, Hiei crossed to the counter. He yanked open a door and produced a pen and pad of paper. Returning to his seat, he slapped the notepad down in front of her and uncapped the pen.

She needed no instruction. His intent was clear.

Her hand trembled as she set the ballpoint to the paper. Her scrawl was shaky, well out of practice, but legible nonetheless.

"Nomi," Hiei read, saying it in much the same way she'd said his name, as if testing out the fit.

Her heartbeat drummed in her temples, throbbed in her chest. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist and urged, "Say it again."

His gaze flitted up to hers. He didn't look away as he said it. "Nomi."

It was music to her ears—that sound more like home than anything she'd felt in years. A single, desperate sob worked its way into her throat, tumbled from her lips.

She was still holding his wrist, his flesh hot against hers, and he'd yet to release her gaze. Whatever this was, this understanding passing between them—because she knew now that the emotion in his eyes _was_ understanding—rattled her to her core.

She sucked down a ragged breath. "What Yusuke said earlier, comparing us… You have… a sibling?"

He dragged the paper to him. Her fingers still gripped his wrist as he wrote a name of his own. She felt every muscle flex beneath her touch, every tendon pull and release. She focused on the sensation, needing something to cling to, something to help hold her pieces together.

Nothing would have prepared her for the name he'd written.

 _Yukina_.

"What? That's not possible—"

"Quiet." A command, but a gentle one. More habitual than forceful.

But she didn't understand. None of the files she'd read had referenced a connection between him and the ice apparition. If _he_ had known, she would have, too. How could something like this have remained secret?

"She doesn't know," Hiei said. "She never will. Nor will the fool."

The fool meaning Kuwabara. Which explained his confusion early.

And suddenly other pieces fit together, too. Why Hiei hadn't struck her down after she broke the spirit cuffs. She'd saved Yukina. If someone saved Nomi now, she'd forgive them for nearly anything.

A sudden burst of voices down the hall shattered the stillness between them. Hiei jerked his arm from her grip and seized the pad of paper. It went up in smoke in his fist. By the time Yusuke marched into the kitchen, it was little more than ash spilling from his fingers.

The cinders fluttered to the floor like so much nothing.

But when she met Hiei's gaze once more, she knew something had changed. And she could still hear it—Nomi's name on his tongue, in her ears. Her reminder. Her rock to hold on to.

Because she wouldn't stop fighting for him.

Not ever.

* * *

AN: How's that for answers? I hope that clears up a lot about who Nomi is and his role in everything. The exchange between Kalanie and Hiei at the end actually caught me off guard. I wasn't expecting them to bond quite so thoroughly, but at the same time, as soon as I started writing it, I knew this was the right moment for it happen. With any luck, y'all will feel the same! (I know Hiei doesn't like to reveal Yukina, but it feels like he would do so here, especially in light of the truth about Nomi.)

So I've been rewatching the anime, and I'm nearly done now (which makes me so unbearably sad!), and as a result, I've realized all the way my memory of YYH's ending was faulty. So I know that some pieces of this fic are AU. If I were to start over again, I'd try to fix them, but I'm not going to do that. Some pieces that I know may be off: the gang's roles in Demon World post-show, the way Kuwabara uses his dimension sword (I need to alter this for my plot, so I'm keeping it, even if it's wrong), and demons (especially Kalanie) having a heartbeat. I hope you can forgive those little manipulations of canon!


	8. And So the Balance Shifts

"We've decided!" the half-breed proclaimed.

Hiei's lips twisted into a sneer. "Let me guess. You've devised a scheme to save the boy."

"Damn it, Hiei. First you skip the damn meeting. Then you steal my thunder."

A boom of true thunder burst, so loud and close it rattled the windowpane. "Spooky," Kuwabara said from the hall at Yusuke's back.

Kurama threaded his way into the kitchen. "Indeed. It seems, Yusuke, even the _thunder_ is stealing your thunder."

"Stick to being a nerd," Yusuke drawled, hooking his foot around a chair and tugging it out from the table. "Your jokes are crap."

Shaking his head, an amused smile on his lips, Kurama pulled out a seat of his own. Kuwabara followed a moment later. Then all eyes shifted to Kalanie.

"What," she said, "I'm not getting the whole committee?"

Yusuke chuckled. "Take notes, fox. That's how you make a joke."

Only Kalanie wasn't joking. The others were filing past, the demons—like Chu and Rinku and Touya—heading back out into the downpour while the women moved off into the shrine, toward the living room if Kalanie had to guess. Even Genkai didn't join them in the kitchen.

Kurama leaned forward. "Well, as Yusuke said, we've made our decision. Too many voices would serve only to muddy the waters."

"That, and Chu's crew is heading out to meet Shishiwakamaru. He's bringing in a new round of refugees. They won't be back until morning."

She wasn't sure what that meant. Nor did she think she _wanted_ to know. If there were any secrets these people had left, they should keep them to themselves, not entrust them to her.

The thought brought her attention darting to Hiei. He was watching her, same as the others, but the connection she'd felt between them had faded from his eyes. His gaze was sharp, critical, and entirely closed off. Yet she saw through it to at least one piece of the soul hidden beneath his steely exterior.

She recognized it now—the similarity between him and Yukina. Their crimson eyes. The structure of their cheekbones. She wouldn't have connected them before, but now she'd never unsee the blood they shared.

He shouldn't have told her.

Kuwabara stifled a yawn. "Still think Shishi should have waited until the rain stopped. That's a lot of powerless humans to move through the forest in a storm like this."

"Stop it," Kalanie snapped.

Yusuke cocked his head. "Stop what?"

"Talking about this—any of it—around me. I don't want to know. You shouldn't want me to."

"That's where you're wrong," Kurama said. "This is no mistake. We understand the implications, and I ask that you trust us to handle the risk. We've survived this long. I assure you, we've no intentions of that changing."

Yusuke nodded emphatically. "What he said. Besides, we need you. You know way more about this Sovereign Binds crap than any of us. See, I told Hokushin about all this. He's my second in command—"

"I know."

"Of course you do. Okay, well, I told him. Asked him to keep an eye out for more like you. We'd seen your lot before, but Hokushin says they're everywhere now. As in thousands of the buggers. Way more than Genkai says one of these binder assholes can handle."

"Puppeteers," she said. "That's what I call them."

The detective smirked. "Works for me. Point is, these puppeteers are running the show. If we're going to win this shit, put an end to Project Shell—without offing your brother—then we have to start with killing the puppeteers."

Kuwabara jabbed a finger at her. "And we need you for that."

Fixing her with one of his calming smiles, Kurama asked, "What do you know of Demon World's status?"

She swallowed hard, averting her gaze. "Little. I haven't been there in over a year. And before that… I hadn't seen much of the outside, not since the Fall."

After the barrier had come down, _he'd_ shortened her leash. He didn't need her in the Forest of Fools, spreading the word. Instead, he kept her at his side. His pet as Hiei had put it. His plaything. Locked off from the happenings all around her—the ruin of the worlds as they'd always been known.

Not that she'd been cognizant of anything anyway. Not at that point. She'd been little more than a husk, so hollowed out and empty she could hardly remember her own name.

"I thought as much," Kurama said. "After the barrier's dissolution, Human World fell in short order. We had no means to hold back the flood of demons. Our governments collapsed. Nations dissipated in little more than weeks. There are still holdouts, even now, but they're few and far between. Ours here in Japan. A handful in the European Union. One in Canada. Another in South Africa." The names meant nothing to her. Places she didn't know. Humans she'd never meet.

"Demon World held on longer. Enki called on Yusuke, Yomi, and Mukuro instantly. We held meetings for days. Our plans worked, for a time. We kept the territories under control. So many demons had come here, intent on plundering the defenseless humans they so despised. It made our work in Demon World easier. Or so we thought."

Yusuke spat a curse. "We were idiots."

Kurama nodded. "We were." He laced his hands together atop the table, frowning at his scarred knuckles. "When the revolts started, we weren't ready. The insurgents attacked deep inside the territories we thought we had control over. Our forces were too far away to get there in time. A year after the Fall, we had little more a handful of safe havens left. We're down to five now."

An ache had begun in Kalanie's chest. It tore at her, pulling apart the pieces she'd so carefully put back together. Her iron writhed over her palms, flowing like molten steel. In a matter of seconds, rust bloomed across her joints, sullying the silver surface. She barely dared breathe as she said, "I don't see how this relates to the puppeteers. To me."

"That's another of our failings," Kurama murmured. "We took far too long to notice the markings on so many of our enemies. During battle, we were too distracted, and by the time we could think clearly, the Binds had faded from the corpses left behind. Yours were the first I've seen clearly. And now that I have, I see them everywhere."

Yusuke shoved a hand through his hair, his fingers knotting in the strands. "We're not even fighting the enemy. Just killing their mindless slaves. It's fucked up."

"That's where you come in," Kuwabara said. "Tell us how they're made. Where the puppeteers are."

"Better yet, teach us how to cure them."

Kalanie shook her head. "I've told you before. There is no cure, no simple fix. Kill the puppet or kill the puppeteer. That's all there is."

"Not true." Hiei cocked a single brow. Challenging her to argue. "The fool you killed, Yukina says he faltered when he saw you. His compulsion relaxed. At least for a moment."

"Akio… I surprised him, startled him enough to reach whatever hadn't eroded away beneath the Binds. But that's because he knew me and thought me dead. There's no saying I could reproduce the effect."

"Work with us here," Yusuke snapped. "I mean, come on. There has to be something."

She thought of her escape, of the way she'd twisted _his_ words, knotting them up in her head until they meant something different—until she could find a loophole.

"Compulsions can be… tricked. As Kurama explained days ago. But most puppets won't be able to do it on their own." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I only managed to escape because _he_ grew sloppy with me. Complacent. He told me to find Yuuto, one his subordinates. His intention was for me to bring Yuuto back with me. But he didn't say it that way. Just _find Yuuto_. So I did, and then I kept walking."

They'd ceased to move. The room was so quiet she could almost imagine she was alone in it.

Her throat felt tight, a compulsion hovering close, but she staved it off. So many people knew how compulsions worked. It was common knowledge amongst Project Shell's forces. _Not secret_. "They're easier to trick with help. If someone unbound manipulates the situation."

"What is with the damn riddles?" Yusuke smacked his palm against the table. It startled Kalanie so violently her iron fissured from her hands in sharp spikes, bristling like the quills of a porcupine. The half-breed held up his hands in mock surrender.

"What I meant," she said after wrangling her iron, "is that they can be fooled. For lack of a better example, if he commanded me to turn out the lights and instead I closed my eyes, the darkness could satisfy the compulsion. Especially if someone else _said_ I had turned out the lights."

Kurama rubbed his chin. "Interesting, but not overly useful when fighting these puppets. We've no time to convince them of anything."

"You asked for answers I don't have. I'm giving you what I do."

"Hn. Is that it?"

She took a deep breath. "If he doesn't include a timeframe, the compulsions fade. The smaller ones more quickly. The broader ones less so." Her throat was burning, a strangling pain taking root. She rubbed at it and choked down a breath. "He forbade me to _ever_ tell secrets. That will never leave me. But—"

"Wait," Kuwabara interrupted. "Aren't these secrets?"

It was like a gut punch. The air whooshed from her lungs as her last, desperate resistance against the compulsion gave way.

"Moron," Hiei growled.

"What's your problem, short stuff? I asked a question. Doesn't make me an idiot."

"Look at her and dare say that again."

Kuwabara fumbled, frowning at her uncertainly. If she looked half as battered as she felt, his recognition dawned too slowly. "You were tricking the compulsion…"

The tightness in her throat kept her from answering.

But it seemed Kurama had pieced together the puzzle on his own. "Because the Sovereign Binds aren't _secret_. Not truly. They're little known. Mostly forgotten about. But still common knowledge." When she said nothing more, he added, "It doesn't matter now, does it? The damage has been done."

She nodded.

"Look," Yusuke said. "All this is more than we knew twenty minutes ago. So you can't deny it, we need you. You could help us. And in turn we'll help you free your brother. You don't need to go to this meeting of yours. Seems like a dumb risk anyway."

"Agreed." Kurama reached out, pressing his long fingers over her fist atop the table. Compared to Hiei's wrist, they were cold as ice. "Work with us, Kalanie. We'll free you. And your brother. It will take time, but I assure you, we will win."

"I don't have time." She choked the words out. "He doesn't."

"Who? Masaru?"

"No, Urameshi," Hiei said. "Her brother."

Yusuke rolled his eyes. "See, this is why you need to use names, Kal. Nobody—"

She stiffened. A spike of frantic terror lanced through her heart, stirring her demon energy into a frenzy. "Don't call me that. Ever."

"Kal? But—"

She was at his throat in an instant. Iron flowed from her skin to his, circling his neck like a vice, tightening like a noose. He scrabbled for her wrist, but before he could fight back, an arm snagged around her waist and jerked her away. It burned hot as smoldering coals.

Hiei's grip locked her against his chest. She bucked wildly, tossing an elbow backward, hoping to crack a rib. He snarled in her ear. "Enough."

And it was.

She came back to herself in fits and starts, her anger receding. Once she fell still, Hiei released her—though not without a shove back toward her seat.

"What the hell?" Yusuke demanded.

"Don't say that name. Kalanie. I am _Kalanie_."

Still glaring, he righted his seat, scooting it back toward the table. Hiei remained standing, a pace from her shoulder, as if waiting in case she lost control once more.

An awkward pause settled over them. Yusuke and Kuwabara exchanged looks that boiled her blood, and Hiei's need to monitor her made her sick. Hell, she was a fool. A broken, useless fool.

Kurama cleared his throat. "We've been derailed. What were you saying, Kalanie, about not having enough time?"

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. The sting settled her racing nerves. "I won't wait until your plans fall into place. I need to save him. I've already taken too long."

"So you want to go to this meeting?"

"You've had me here for nearly three weeks. If you've understood nothing else I've said, I'd have hoped you understood this—I need to leave this place. I _must_."

His smile flashed. It didn't reach his eyes. "Then let us work with you. We'll accompany you. Make sure you're not ambushed. And whatever they tell you, whatever lead they offer, we'll help execute it. In turn, you help us."

"We are not bargaining—"

"You're right. We're not. These are the terms. You accept them, and we'll let you beyond the barrier for your meeting. We _will_ accompany you, and you _will_ return here after. If you refuse these terms, you never leave, the deadline passes, and your opportunity's gone."

Kuwabara let loose an appreciative whistle. "Remind me if I ever need lawyer, you're my guy, Kurama." Then, rubbing his neck sheepishly, he added, "Though I guess we don't need lawyers without laws."

Yusuke grinned at Kalanie. His fingers shaped like a gun, he pointed his hand at her and murmured, "Bang."

She bit down a vicious curse. They'd trapped her.

A hand curled over her shoulder. It squeezed, sharp and insistent. "Hn. Take the deal."

She hated them, then. Really and truly.

Yet in spite of it all—or perhaps because of it—she respected them, too. They carried the fate of the worlds on their shoulders. The future of all of humanity fell on these four men. And maybe, just maybe, there actually was a future because of them.

If she had a place in that future… If Nomi did… Well, then maybe it was time to stop fighting them. Maybe it was time to face this—all of it, every devil in her past.

"Fine," she said at last, "but we do it on my terms."

* * *

"You could say thanks, you know."

"Excuse me?"

On the night they were to leave for the train station, Kalanie sat on the porch's bottom step, one hand pressed to the earth, siphoning iron from the seemingly endless stores deep between the shrine. Kuwabara loomed over her. A brisk wind whistled past, stirring the unzippered length of his long, storm gray jacket. It flapped against her shoulder. She grimaced.

"Do you realize how ridiculous this is? How much we're risking for you?"

"I didn't ask you to come."

He sank down beside her, stretching out his long legs. "Maybe not directly, but like hell we were going to let you go alone."

Leaning her cheek against her knee, she studied him sidelong. He hadn't proven to be what she'd expected. After all, he was perhaps the strongest human left in all three worlds. With a reputation like that hanging from his shoulders, she'd anticipated a hard ass. A powerful, ruthless man. Hiei in human skin.

Instead, she'd found a man loyal to his friends. A man devoted to the woman he loved. A man quick to joke and quicker still to smile. A man who had never once looked at her as something less—something vile.

"Look," he said, "you don't seem to like us—which is crap by the way—but we're only doing what we have to. You want to save your brother. Good on you. But we have far more than one life depending on us. This shit Masaru did to you is hell, I get that, but there's so much other shit—so much worse shit. So we're doing what's right. For as many people as possible." He turned to her, his knees knocking against hers. "We want you to be one of those people, but you have to ditch the boulder you're carrying around on your shoulder. If you want allies, you need to let someone in. You hear me?"

"I hear you." She just wasn't sure she agreed with him.

Grinning, he extended a fist. She stared dumbly at his knuckles.

A burst of unnatural wind announced Hiei's arrival. "He wants you to 'bump' it," the demon said, disgust dripping from every word.

Kuwabara rolled his eyes. "Don't make me beat you up, shrimp."

"Aren't you sick of lying to yourself about your abilities?"

"All right, screw it. You're out. Kurama can come with us instead—"

Gently, all too aware of the iron coating her knuckles, Kalanie raised her fist to his. Kuwabara trailed off, blinking at their joined hands in disbelief, then loosed a victorious whoop and crushed her to his chest in a bone-shattering hug.

She let him have his moment, her arms limp at her side, but when he pulled back, she rose swiftly to her feet. "We need to go. I want to scout the area before Mazou is due to arrive. Confirm it's not a trap."

"Right." Kuwabara lurched upright, then marched for the distant barrier. "How fast are you?"

"Faster than you."

To her surprise, Hiei chuckled. It was low and dark and, despite herself, sent a shiver racing down her spine.

"Dude," Kuwabara said. Twisting to walk backwards, he pressed a hand against his heart in mock injury. "I thought we just bonded."

She hurried to catch him, refusing to acknowledge Hiei's gaze burning into her back. "I was speaking empirically. I've seen the data."

"Huh, well that sucks. I thought I'd gotten faster."

She decided not to tell him that he had. Since the Dark Tournament six years ago, his speed had increased tenfold. Just not enough to eclipse her own.

Moving silently through the underbrush, not so much as a single twig breaking beneath his boots, Hiei reached her side. "Set the pace then, fool. We'll keep up with you."

She ignored the ember that smoked to life in her gut when Hiei described them as a _we_. By the time the barrier materialized between the trees, she'd stamped it out entirely, leaving her chest empty, her thoughts clear and focused. She had no room for distractions. Not now. Not with the key to saving Nomi so close.

So intent was her focus, she felt not even a blip of elation as she passed through the barrier's crackling current. In its stead, determination sung in her bones, and as Kuwabara blurred into a sprint, she gave chase, feeling the bolstering flow of iron across her skin and the press of energy coiled in her chest, tense as a spring.

And more strongly than anything else, steadfast and unbreaking, rang the surety that finally— _finally_ —she was back on the right course.

* * *

AN: Lots more details about the Fall! And writing the gang like this was super fun. I don't think I've ever felt as in touch with Kurama as I did here. Normally he's sooooo tricky for me. I hope my connection to him translated to the page properly!

We've reached Stage 2 of this story! Now things start to pick up and change pace!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I love hearing from you all!


	9. Outnumbered, Outplanned

The train station was desolate.

The tracks running past had begun to rust. Nearly two years had passed since trains would have run through these woods, let alone how long it had been since a maintenance crew might have visited. Parallel to the rails ran a long, squat building, fallen into disrepair. A tree had a collapsed on its roof, and one of the walls had crumbled away beneath its branches.

It took Hiei only a moment to assess the place and deem it safe. As the purple light faded from his Jagan and the eye shuttered closed, Kalanie hugged her jacket tighter. Her heart was racing, her energy churning through her, sapping strength from the iron coating her skin.

"Mazou and anyone she comes with can't know you're here. I need to appear alone."

"Makes sense." Kuwabara prodded a brick that had come loose from the ruined wall with a foot. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Hn. I told you it's not trapped."

"Maybe not, but I still don't like it."

Kalanie looked between them, frowning. Hiei's Jagan was capable of vision the likes of which little else rivaled. If someone else were here, lying in wait, he'd know it. But Kuwabara's sixth sense was infamous. Every demon for miles knew of it.

"Can you mask your energies?" she asked. "You could stay close as long as Mazou wouldn't be able to feel your presence."

"Obviously."

"Yup," Kuwabara agreed.

In unison, their auras winked out of existence. If she focused all her attention, she could still feel them, the barest of flames burning in the night, but if one wasn't looking, they'd be invisible.

"So what's the plan again?"

Hiei scoffed. "Moron, do you listen?"

Kalanie paced across the fractured concrete walkway. A single bench remained intact, a few feet back from the rails. She sank onto it and curled her hands around its plastic slats. "Mazou will be here in three hours. She'll offer me their terms: agree to rob a vault in Gandara and in turn they'll help me break my brother free. I'll accept. If the timeline she told me is still true, they're planning the heist for two weeks from now, which means we'll have time to return to the shrine and break my brother free before I have to go."

"You really think it'll be that easy." Kuwabara rubbed the back of his neck. "Seems a little fishy to me."

"He's right," Hiei said. "If they divulge their information about your brother now, they've no leverage to force your involvement further."

"Mazou wouldn't lie to me. She'll tell me what I need."

The fire demon's eyes narrowed. He stalked closer to the bench and leaned down until their gazes were level. "You're letting your judgment grow clouded. We are not your nursemaids, here to pick up the pieces after you allow them to fall apart."

"My terms," Kalanie snapped. "That was the deal."

Kuwabara grabbed Hiei's cloak and yanked him backwards. "Enough intimidation tactics, short stuff. Let's find a place to watch from." As he shoved Hiei across the track, he looked over his shoulder. "We've got your back, Kalanie. Remember that."

* * *

Mazou showed up just as dusk began to settle, cloaking the mountains in shadows. She flickered into existence out of nothing. Even after growing up together, Kalanie had never grown used to the suddenness of Mazou's teleporting. The girl had come alone, and she moved swiftly, her head bent against a stiff wind, her hands hidden within the overlong sleeves of her coat.

Seeing her sent a tremor of excitement through Kalanie. She'd actually done it. She'd made it here for the meeting. Now, she had her chance to save Nomi. To free him from Project Shell. Before the spirit detectives, she'd never thought about how doing so might fix the worlds. That didn't matter to her. Not compared to Nomi.

But if getting Nomi back would also bring back the barrier, then all the better.

What a blow that would be to _him_.

Over the last few days, she'd hardly dared think through the implications. With the barrier back, the detectives could set about freeing Human World from its demon invaders. And Demon World… well, maybe its usual chaotic order would return. Or maybe not. Maybe Masaru and his ilk—and whoever the hell commanded them—would remain in control. If they did, Kalanie and Nomi would simply run. Far away. Deep into Demon World's darkest depths. To somewhere they could be alone.

Nomi was all she needed anyway.

But first, this meeting with Mazou. Get the information Maz offered, run the heist, free Nomi. A simple chain of events.

"Well, well, well. You actually came." A grin broke across Mazou's dark features. She practically skipped across the platform, a frenetic sort of energy driving her movements.

She'd hardly changed at all.

"I did."

Settling beside her on the bench, Mazou bumped Kalanie's shoulder playfully. "I'm glad. You won't regret it, Kalanie."

She startled at the use of her name. Mazou had always called her Nie. A silly childhood nickname. To hear something else from her lips seemed decidedly wrong. Perhaps Maz had changed more than she'd first thought. Keeping the unease of that thought from her voice, she asked, "So then you can still get me in to rescue him? I can get him back?"

Mazou's smile dimmed a notch. "Hey, I know this is business and all, but do we have to get to that immediately?" Yes. Yes, they did, but Mazou plowed ahead before Kalanie could say so. "Where have you been? Are you living in these woods?"

Annoyance flared, Kalanie's thrill at seeing her old friend fading. "Maz, I can't do this. I need to know. What's your lead? How do I get to him?"

Mazou's gaze darted away from Kalanie's. She shifted, her sleeves rustling, distending as if she'd curled her hands into fists. "You have to complete the heist first. My boss wants me to bring you in now. I can teleport us to him. We'll go to Gandara, rob the vault, then he'll tell you."

Kalanie sank her teeth into her lip. Were Hiei and Kuwabara close enough to hear? They'd never agree to her leaving like this. Nor was she ready to. Not without a concrete plan.

"No," she said, straightening her shoulders and raising her chin. On this, she would not back down. "I'm not signing on to some idiotic robbery without proof of how I'd get my brother back."

"You haven't said his name," Mazou said softly. "Why not?"

Biting down a snarl, Kalanie banged a fist against the bench. "None of your damn business, Maz. Tell me what your plan was. I'm not asking anymore."

"Just come with me." Mazou's features had gone soft, her eyes pleading. "It'll be so quick. It's an in and out job. We just need you to break the vault. It's sealed, so I can't teleport into it, but you could get us in. Then—"

No.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Mazou was supposed to have answers, some means of breaking into the stronghold that housed Project Shell and Nomi. They were meant to strike a deal.

Kalanie lurched to her feet. "What the hell is this, Maz? Do you realize what they've done to him? They've turned him into a machine. A piece of rotten equipment. He might as well be dead. Hell, he might end up that way if I can't save him soon. Don't you see that? Your robbery is nothing. It's a joke. So tell me what you know. Tell me or—"

"I don't know anything." Mazou's shoulders crumpled. She buried her face in her hands, her dark curls tumbling into her face, obscuring Kalanie's view of her. "My boss hasn't told me."

Energy crackled across Kalanie's skin. Her iron writhed in answer. "Then you have nothing."

"Please. Come with me." Mazou reached out, snaking fingers around Kalanie's wrist. "I'll help you after. We'll do it together."

But Kalanie hardly heard her.

Because Mazou's sleeve had slipped, revealing her hands—and the black whorls inked across her skin.

In a heartbeat, the world dropped away from her. _No. Not possible._

Yet it was. The Sovereign Binds. Tattooed across Mazou as surely as they were across Kalanie herself. And in the chain links around her wrist, written in crisp letters: _Masaru_.

"Hiei! Kuwabara!" Her scream shattered the night's quiet. A flock of birds burst from the trees in answer, soaring into the darkening sky.

Mazou's grip went tight as a shackle. "I'm sorry."

Kalanie felt it then, the telltale twisting in her gut that had always proceeded Mazou's teleportations when they'd been young. It dulled her thoughts, blurring them together, but she knew enough to fight and she writhed, clawing at Mazou's hand, trying desperately to tear herself free.

Compelled.

Mazou was compelled.

And _he_ had sent her here.

The ground became a fleeting sensation, perhaps there, perhaps not. The stars winked in and out of existence. She saw him, like an afterimage burned into her eyelids, reclining on a couch, dressed impeccably in a well-pressed dress shirt and fitted slacks. He stared back, his lips curling upward—

The image shattered.

Mazou's grip on her wrist went limp, and Kalanie staggered. Kuwabara caught her before she tumbled from the platform. "I've got you!"

Hiei stood over Mazou's fallen body, his katana readied to plunge through her heart. Blood streaked from her right temple, as if she'd been struck a hard blow, and she was pleading for her life. Her sobs nearly masked Kalanie's own.

 _He'd_ been right there. A moment longer and Mazou would have teleported straight to him. What an idiot she'd been to have believed a way to save Nomi existed—or that she could have found it so easily. But worse, so much worse than that, was the place _he_ had been. It looked like no Demon World residence she'd ever seen. Which meant he was here. In Human World.

So close.

"Don't kill her, Hiei!" Kuwabara released Kalanie and lunged forward, smacking Hiei's katana away from Mazou's chest. "We'll bring her back. Maybe she has information."

"We already have her." Hiei jerked his chin at Kalanie. "We don't need another."

"But maybe she knows things Kalanie doesn't." Kuwabara grabbed Mazou's wrists, and a set of spirit cuffs flickered into existence, eliminating her ability to teleport—though, despite the adrenaline rattling through her body, Kalanie realized dully that Mazou hadn't tried to escape. She'd barely even fought.

Hiei's katana clicked back into its sheath. "You're weak."

"Nope. Just thinking ahead. Trust me, Kurama's going to agree with this."

"Hn, the fox has his weaknesses, too."

Shaking his head, Kuwabara hauled Mazou to her feet, then flipped her over his shoulder and held her firmly in place. She hung limp, desperate sobs still shaking through her.

"You all right to run?" Kuwabara asked Kalanie.

Clenching her arms around her stomach as if to hold herself together, she nodded.

"I'm sorry this wasn't what you'd hoped," he murmured, squeezing her shoulder with his free hand, then nodded resolutely. "All right. Let's go."

* * *

Kalanie paced her room like a caged beast.

Anger had grown to a wildfire within her. The flames lapped her heart, searing and biting and reminding her with a vicious certainty that the freedom she'd thought she'd found was nothing but an imagining of her own shattered mind. She clung to that rage, to that building heat, clutching it to her as tightly as she did her iron.

She could not let it go. For what lurked beneath it, cold and empty, was a helplessness she refused to accept.

All their promises of her involvement seemingly forgotten, the detectives had closed her out of Mazou's handling. As soon as they'd returned to the shrine, Botan had met them on the porch and ushered Kalanie to the bathroom. Just as she had so many days ago, she showered, stared at her unrecognizable reflection, and emerged to find the ferry girl waiting. When Botan had led her to her room, she'd known arguing would get her nowhere.

And so here she remained. Trapped within these characterless walls. Sensing Mazou close at hand, behind one of the shrine's dozen sliding doors, and yet entirely out of reach.

It seemed the alliance she'd forged here was no more real than that which Mazou had promised.

Where that left her, she had not yet worked out.

But she could not sit idly. This wretched night had returned her to the beginning. No leads. No hazy, half-formed rescue on the horizon. Just the searing truth that Nomi remained out of reach.

The detectives had offered to help her. In exchange for cooperation, they'd promised their takedown of Project Shell would not also entail the takedown of her brother. If that offer still stood, perhaps it was time to accept it. Her thoughts flashed back to sitting on the porch with Kuwabara a few short hours ago and to that odd human gesture he'd asked of her. A fist bump. A promise.

Maybe he'd been right. Maybe it was time for allies. Running and fighting solo had gotten her nowhere. All she had to show for it was a handful of months spent alone in these mountains, living little better than some mindless creature, and a few weeks of captivity.

If she needed allies, surely the detectives would prove her best options. They were strong, their army pitiful and yet more vast than any resistance group left standing. And she could not deny the pull they'd already begun to exert over her—Kurama with his gentle smiles and quick wit, Yusuke's swaggering might, Kuwabara and his overly trusting human heart, that shared moment of brokenness that had passed between her and Hiei in the kitchen six days ago.

They were a team, first and foremost. They always had been.

Perhaps it was time to determine if there was a space for her on their roster.

She strode to the door and reached for the handle. She expected it to resist. After all, Botan had locked her in here. This bedroom had joined the long list of prisons in her life. But when she pushed, the sliding panel offered no resistance.

The hallway beyond was empty.

In the hours since Mazou's betrayal first surfaced, night had given way to the pale light of early dawn, and as Kalanie padded down the hall on silent feet, she heard the murmur of voices in the kitchen. Tentatively, half-expecting panic, she poked her head into the room.

Botan and Yukina sat at the table, cups of steaming coffee set before them. At the sight of Kalanie, a smile split Botan's pretty features. She clapped her hands excitedly. "Hello there, Kalanie. Are you feeling all right?"

Yukina turned to face her. "I was very sorry to hear about what happened last night. Kazuma was so distressed. I can only imagine how you might feel."

Staving off a fresh surge of rage, Kalanie leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. "I'm… coping."

Botan crossed to the coffee pot. "Coffee?"

Kalanie's nose crinkled of its own accord. "No, thank you."

"Please sit," Yukina said. "Have breakfast with us."

What was this? Some sort of mind game? Ignoring Yukina's question, she asked Botan, "Did you mean for my door to be unlocked?"

The ferry girl startled, and coffee sloshed over the brim of her mug. Squawking and flapping her scalded hand, she darted to the sink and shoved her fingers beneath the faucet. She cranked the handle for cold water, then twisted to face Kalanie. "Why in the world would I lock you in?"

"Isn't that why you waited for me in the hall last night? To escort me back to my room?"

Botan grabbed a sponge and set to work cleaning up the coffee she'd spilled. "Of course not. I thought you might want to talk about what happened. I wanted to be there if you needed an ear. But… well, you didn't seem to want that and I didn't want to intrude."

"Oh."

Exchanging a look with Botan that Kalanie couldn't begin to decipher, Yukina rose from her chair. Kalanie could do nothing but watch in dumbfounded silence as the apparition closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around Kalanie's shoulders, drawing her into a tight hug. "I've spent many years searching for my brother," she murmured. "I know it is not the same, not completely, but I understand your pain. Your loneliness. I'm sorry."

Slowly, uncertain even then if she were falling prey to some cunning trick, Kalanie hugged Yukina back. The demon's skin was cold, and a chill slipped into Kalanie's muscles as they embraced. It was so unlike Hiei and the scorching heat she'd felt from his wrist alone that it was little wonder the ice apparition had never recognized their shared blood—though why Hiei would hide such a truth from a spirit like Yukina's, Kalanie couldn't begin to fathom.

After a beat, the apparition stepped back. Her eyes remained locked on something beyond Kalanie's shoulder. "Oh, good morning, Kurama."

Kalanie turned in time to see him dip his head in greeting. "Morning, all."

"You look like you didn't sleep a wink," Botan said. She hurried across the kitchen, clutching a mug of coffee, and pressed it into Kurama's hands.

An involuntary sigh shuddered through the fox. "That would be because I didn't." His gaze shifted to Kalanie. "How are you holding up?"

She swallowed down a knot that had risen unbidden in her throat. "I'd like to see her. Mazou, I mean."

He chuckled. "I'd hope you'd say that. She's been asking for you."

Kalanie's brow crinkled. "For me?"

"It seems her tongue was not locked up as yours has been, but she has no interest in sharing her secrets with us. Only with you." Waving for her to follow, he started down the hall. After a long sip of his coffee, he added, "She seems concerned for your safety. Apparently we've earned quite the reputation as demon killers."

Kalanie snorted. "You can say that again."

"Truly?" He seemed genuinely puzzled, his gaze growing distant even as he pointed her down another of the temple's hallways. They'd crossed into the ramshackle addition that had been built—a stretch of the shrine she'd never seen before. "We've killed only when we've had to. For the most part, we're able to subdue any apparitions who come upon us here and send them back to Demon World. Kuwabara's been quite stubborn about it actually."

"It's Kuwabara's idea to spare demon lives?"

Stopping at the closed door, Kurama shook his coffee mug as if chiding her. "Don't be so surprised. Kuwabara has always been the most noble of us all. Honorable to a fault."

"Hey!" came a shout from inside. The door rattled open and Kuwabara emerged. Shoving the door closed, he jabbed a finger into Kurama's chest. "I heard that, you know! There is nothing faulty about honor." He whirled on Kalanie. "Don't you dare laugh!"

Biting her lip, Kalanie held up her hands in surrender. When would this human stop surprising her? "I wouldn't dare."

Amusement twinkling in his eyes, Kurama squeezed Kalanie's shoulder. "Your friend is through here. She's been cooperative and non-violent so far, but she's held firm that she'll only answer questions from you."

Kalanie could feel her, Mazou's energy burning low and quiet beyond the sliding door, dampened beneath the spirit cuffs. Beside her, two great pillars of power waited. Yusuke and Hiei. Hell, they were powerful.

And her allies now.

They had to be. For Nomi's sake.

"Got it," she said and reached around Kuwabara for the door.

Kurama caught her hand. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. "We'll be with you in there and we're here to help if you need it, but I believe we can trust you to handle this. Ask about your brother, but don't forget everything else. Masaru. Project Shell. Any information she has is valuable to us."

"I know."

"Good. Don't let us down."

* * *

AN: I hope you enjoy this one, guys! As always, thanks to my reviewers from last chapter. You guys rock!


	10. Fan This Spark into a Flame

Inside, Mazou's holding cell was as simple as most rooms in the shrine. One table. Four chairs, three on this side of the table, one on the other. Mazou sat in the singular seat, her hands resting in clear view. Her spirit cuffs blazed golden against her dark skin, illuminating the Sovereign Binds marring her flesh, black as pitch.

"Hey, Nie," she said softly, all the infectious energy that usually defined her voice notably absent. "Powerful friends you have here."

 _Friends_. Not yet, but perhaps in time.

Kalanie sank into the open chair. Yusuke and Hiei occupied the others, though both men shifted to allow her space as she settled. With slow, deft movements, she splayed her palms against the table's oak surface and recalled her iron, letting the gloves roll back from her fingers. "I've missed you, Maz."

Mazou's gaze settled on her hands, and Kalanie let her stare, let her see that they were the same. Both under _his_ control. Both broken. But maybe not forever.

Then she turned, finding Kurama behind her. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, calculating appraisal turning his eyes sharp. "If this is to work the way you'd like, none of you can interfere. Don't ask questions. Don't speak. Just let us talk."

He tilted his head the barest degree in silent question.

Kalanie took a deep breath. A compulsion rose on her tongue, clogging her throat, but she stamped it down. "Maz is like me now. There are no secrets between _his_ puppets. So let me forget you're here. Let me focus only on her." She dared say no more, as if giving voice to her intentions would trigger the compulsions and lock up her voice before she even began.

A flash of understanding lit in Kurama's eyes. "I see. Yusuke, Hiei, why don't you come stand with Kuwabara and me?" He crooked his lips into a wry smile. "We should give Kalanie and her friend privacy."

Kalanie felt Hiei's gaze searing into her, but she ignored him as she turned back to Maz. She had no doubt he'd worked out her meaning. He was too cunning not to have.

It seemed the same wasn't true of Yusuke. He shoved his chair back from the table, its legs screeching against the floor, and muttered under his breath about riddles and foxes and dumb mind games. Before she could caution him into silence, there was the sound of flesh smacking flesh, a sharp 'shut up, Urameshi,' and his mumbles ceased.

 _Good._

"Look at me, Maz," she instructed. "Only me. It's just us here, all right?"

Mazou fidgeted. She twined her fingers into knots.

"We'll start simple." Kalanie scooted her chair closer and leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the tabletop. She tried to channel a calm she hardly felt—for Mazou's sake if not her own. "When you contacted me three months ago, were you under his control? Was your proposition ever _real_?"

Mazou's eyelids fluttered shut. "I thought so. I hadn't realized…"

"Breathe, Maz. I know how foggy you feel. That fades. The longer you're away, the more your memories will come back to you." If she didn't know better, she would have reached for Mazou's hand. Small though the comfort might be, it was all she could offer. But it wasn't an option. She didn't know what compulsions ruled Mazou, and she couldn't risk awakening one.

"I didn't know who he was, Nie. He found me. In Demon World." Mazou's eyes cracked open. "In our village, actually. I was visiting old Sekou. He'd wanted to hear stories of Human World but hadn't the energy to travel here himself. So I'm sitting there with him, and there's a knock on the door, and Sekou opens it to this… man. Dressed like some pampered human. Slacks. Creaseless tunic. Sekou was practically drooling over him. Next moment, he's invited himself in and proposed a job. A heist in Gandara."

Mazou worried her lip. "He wanted me to get his team in, but he said my teleportation wouldn't be enough on its own. The vault was sealed with some sort of ward. And I… I didn't know, Nie. I had no idea who he was— _what_ he was. And I thought of you."

Kalanie remained perfectly still. She forced each fresh breath to remain steady. Even. In and out. Panic clawed at her edges, drawing ever closer, but she couldn't let it in. She _wouldn't_.

"So I told him what you could do. He didn't want to split the treasure further. He claimed he was already stretching it too thin across his team, but he thought he might have another way to pay you."

A sick, twisted nausea rose in Kalanie's gut. The lengths _he_ had gone to. The sheer effort he'd poured into his need to control her—to own her.

"He told you he had a way to get my brother back," she said softly. It wasn't a question. She already knew the truth.

"I didn't realize you'd been separated," Mazou whispered. She was staring at her hands, the spirit cuffs reflected in her glassy eyes. "I hadn't seen you in years, but I knew you wouldn't have let that happen. You wouldn't have left him for anything. So I promised to find you, to bring you in on the deal.

"Only you didn't react like I'd expected. You were like a skittish animal. Hardly recognizable—and not just because I don't think you'd eaten for weeks." Her eyes darted upward, just for a second, and she added, "I _still_ don't think you're eating enough."

"Maz," Kalanie growled in warning.

"Right. Sorry. I went back to Demon World a week later to find him. He'd told me to meet him at the Wailing Waters, and I didn't think… I _knew_ what that place had become. We'd all been hearing stories, but I showed up anyway, like some idiot human dithering straight into a trap."

Mazou's hands curled into fists atop the table. "His minions attacked me. Pinned me down. When he spoke, I couldn't move, couldn't even think. Then these marks appeared, and he forbade me to teleport and…"

And then she was _his_.

"He was so angry, Nie. So incredibly angry. I think he'd expected me to bring you in, and I _know_ he'd expected me to come back more quickly. His minions beat me for hours. Then he locked me away. For weeks. Until last night." She was sobbing now, her forehead pressed to her fists, her shoulders rocking with a pain Kalanie knew all too well.

She could piece together the rest. He'd have freed her for the meeting. Ordered her to act normal. Pretend nothing was wrong. Then bring Kalanie in. And she had guesses about the rest. Why he hadn't come himself. Why he'd waited so long if he knew where she was. But she wasn't ready to face those.

Not yet.

"I tried to warn you," Mazou said through her strangled sobs.

 _Breathe_. _In and out. In and out._ "By using my full name?"

Mazou nodded. "And you wouldn't say—" A compulsion seized her, stoppering her tongue, and she struggled past it. "Your brother. He wouldn't let me say his name. And I thought maybe he'd done that to you, too."

"He did."

"Why?"

Kalanie licked her dry lips, locked her focus on the grain of the table's surface. "Because it made him angry. That I woke dreaming of my brother and not of _him_."

Her sobs quieting, Mazou sat up and shoved back her curls. Tears still shone in her eyes, but she swiped them away. "But why forbid me?"

"So that I wouldn't hear his name. To keep him from me in yet another way." She thought of Hiei reading Nomi's name from that notepad days ago, of the joy it had brought her, however fleeting. "It's just another means to break me."

"How did you survive it, Nie?"

Dully, in some distant part of her mind, she knew the detectives were still there. Listening. Watching her cut out whatever remained of her heart and splay her soul across this table. These private, personal hells she'd never meant for anyone to see.

But Mazou had lived them, too. Because of Kalanie. Because of _his_ obsession with her.

And so she would bear these truths for Mazou to see, so that Maz would know she wasn't alone. Not in this.

"I didn't," she whispered. Then more loudly, "At a certain point, I just stopped. Living. Existing. My body did things, felt things, but _I_ didn't. I retreated until there was nothing left. My body was not mine. My mind was not mine. I think _that's_ what it means to be truly dead. To no longer exist in these worlds."

"But you escaped."

"Yes. And no." Kalanie bit her inner cheek, letting the stinging pain ground her. "I'll never be truly free until his marks are gone from my hands. Even then, I think there are some chains that can never be broken. Not fully."

Movement at her back nearly broke her focus on Mazou, but she forced it away, refusing to acknowledge the sudden spike in Hiei's energy.

"I don't feel it now," Mazou said after a beat. "The urge to bring you to him. It's like the compulsion is gone. _Why_?" The question was so desperate, so utterly terrified, as if some pivotal part of her rested on its answer.

Kalanie knew that fear all to well. The constant wondering. Which choices were her own? Which were the ones he'd instilled in her? Was there even a line that could be drawn? But Mazou didn't need those questions. She needed answers—something to hold her pieces together, at least for a time.

"If I had to guess, it's because of the spirit cuffs." Kalanie nodded at the golden energy encircling Mazou's wrists. "Without your power, you _can't_ teleport me. It's impossible. So there's nothing for the compulsion to command. Not as long as you're wearing those cuffs."

"Then I'll wear them forever." Mazou's features twisted, her lips pressing thin, her eyes narrowing to flinty slits—grim in a way Kalanie had never seen them. "To make up for this betrayal, I will wear them always."

"You won't need to."

"What?"

Kalanie flexed her hands, watched the Sovereign Binds ripple across her skin, the links around her wrists stretching and curling. "This has been a game for him. One of cat and mouse. For weeks, he's been batting me between his paws, readying to pounce—and I never realized it. But it can't be long now. He… does not like to wait. It's not something he's accustomed to."

That distant, detached corner of her mind knew she'd need to broach this with the detectives. The threat she posed was greater than even she had imagined. But now was not the time for that talk.

"Then we'll fight him." Mazou reached across the table, but Kalanie snatched her hands back, safely out of contact. "Oh..."

"A precaution, Maz. That's all."

She nodded, but the hurt didn't leave her eyes.

"Did you learn anything?" Kalanie asked when the silence grew to be too much. "About their operations. About who leads Project Shell. I never saw beyond _him_. He was always careful of that. But perhaps he was less cautious with you?"

"He kept me locked away. For weeks."

Kalanie sighed. Of course. It had been a foolish hope. A pipe dream—

"But maybe…" Mazou straightened. A feverish light took hold in her eyes. "The last day, just before he sent me to you, he'd summoned me from my prison. He was giving me orders. All these careful rules I must follow. But we were interrupted and he went into the corridor. The door stayed open a crack, and I heard… I don't know what. Just snippets. Something about a move. A temporary shutdown. Two weeks from now."

Kalanie's heart skipped a beat.

A fractured memory drifted back to her. Recalling it was like viewing someone through foggy glass, the recollection warped and twisted up on itself. She clung to it, polishing its filmy surface until it began to make sense.

Keeping her gaze locked on Mazou, she said, "I heard something like that, too. Six months ago. He'd been talking to one of Project Shell's engineers. I think he thought I was asleep. They said the Shell was going to need to be taken offline, transported somewhere new. _In six months_."

"Now," Mazou said. "Just like I overhead."

Kalanie nodded.

"But why? Won't that bring back the barrier?"

"Because—" Nomi's name closed Kalanie's throat. She started again. "Because my brother needs more iron. At the rate he was using it, the mines were going to run out."

"I don't get it."

Kalanie clung to her focus, refusing to let her gaze drift from Mazou's face, refusing to think of anything but her friend. "He's the Shell. They pump him with iron, stoke his power to its greatest heights, then suck it from his body. It's used to power something else. Some sort of interference machine that disables the barrier." A compulsion was clawing at her now, shredding her apart as her thoughts flicked to the detectives, praying they understood, that _Kurama_ understood. "The worlds will close off while they move him. Their forces will probably be concentrated, all in one place. It would be a chance to strike. An opportunity to—"

Air whooshed from her lungs, so sudden and violent that it doubled her over.

The compulsion had won.

Kurama was at her side in an instant. Rubbing a comforting hand over her back. Telling her to breathe. Yusuke and Kuwabara hovered awkwardly behind him, and Yusuke offered one uncertain pat of her head before seeming to decide better of it and shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Desperate, she choked down air. Darkness flickered at the edges of her vision, and her throat ached as though it were full of fractured glass.

"You did it, Kalanie." Kurama sank onto the chair beside hers. With an elegant finger, he raised her chin, brought her eyes level with his. "This is the lead we needed."

She tried to acknowledge him, to say something— _anything_ —but her voice wouldn't come. She settled for a jerky nod.

His soft smile flitted to his lips.

"Nie?"

She glanced at Mazou.

Tears had gathered in the demon's eyes once more, but she sat straight in her chair, her shoulders back, her chin high. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"Not…" Kalanie coughed wretchedly. "Not your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

With a gentle hand on her elbow, Kurama guided Kalanie to her feet. "Come. We should get you water. Or tea. Something to ease your throat. Kuwabara, would you see Mazou gets the same?"

The human lurched into motion. "Sure thing."

As he disappeared into the hall, Kurama turned his focus to the other detectives. "Hiei, help Kalanie, would you? Yusuke, find Genkai, then summon everyone. We'll need to fill them in. Come up with a plan. We only have two weeks."

"On it," Yusuke said, firing off a salute and swaggering out of the room. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he raised his voice in a shout. "Oy, Grandma! Where the hell are you?"

Hiei was slower to react. Glaring his displeasure at Kurama, he took hold of Kalanie's elbow and propelled her to the door. His grip blazed against her skin, smoldering like coals. As they left Mazou's holding cell behind, Yusuke's shouts preceded them through the temple, echoing down the corridors in time to his stomping footsteps.

Kalanie wished she had the strength to move on her own, to shake free of Hiei and leave him in her dust, but she could hardly walk without leaning into him, and by the time they'd crossed back into the shrine's proper halls, she sagged into his muscled frame entirely. With an annoyed growl, he looped an arm about her waist.

As they turned the corner toward her room, Botan hurried past, muttering, "Oh, Yusuke. Stop yelling, would you?" At the sight of them, she stumbled to a halt and loosed a surprised sort of squawk.

Hiei spat a curse in answer, but Kalanie only dipped her head. Embarrassment scorched like flames in her cheeks. How weak she must seem. To Botan. And worse still, to the fire demon himself.

They reached her door, and she attempted to pull away. Surely she could manage this. It was little more than ten steps to the corner where she slept. That she could do. Then she could lose herself to the pain, to the exhaustion.

Fighting her compulsions—tricking them for so long—had been more draining than she could have possibly imagined.

Hiei's grip tightened, keeping her pressed against his side. Her shirt had ridden up, and his fingers burned like brands against her hip. "Don't be a fool," he growled. "Falling on your face will prove far more pathetic than needing assistance now."

A snarl tore from her throat, awakening a fresh spike of pain, but she stopped fighting. He guided her to the bed and pushed her to the mattress with firm hands.

"No."

She tried to stand, to head for her blankets bundled in the corner, but Hiei shoved her back down.

His hand curled around her shoulder, his thumb pressing against the column of his throat. She felt every millimeter of his skin against hers. The rough, calloused pads of his fingers. The flaming heat of his palm. "If you don't want to be his dog, don't act like one. Don't sleep on the floor like some mutt in a kennel."

This time, she stayed seated as he crossed to her blankets and scooped the lot from the floor. Her every breath still wheezed past her lips, and a fresh bout of coughs seized her as Hiei unfurled her wrinkled sheets and spread them across the mattress

"Get in the damn bed, woman."

She obeyed, scooting backward until she met the wall.

"Hn, stay. I'll be back." His cloak rustled as he left, his footsteps as silent as ever.

Drawing her knees into her chest, she focused on her breathing. It steadied slowly, growing easier with each expansion of her lungs.

Everything Mazou had revealed swirled through her mind. _His_ twisted machinations were enough to make her sick. She couldn't think long on them now. She didn't have the will to stave off the panic those thoughts would bring with them.

Instead, she focused on Nomi. They'd be moving him. Soon. That was a window, a chance to get him back. She wasn't sure what the detectives would be planning. No doubt they wanted to use this opportunity to put an end to _him_ and his kind. Maybe there'd be room in that plan for Nomi.

There _had_ to be.

She didn't realize Hiei had returned until the bed dipped beneath his weight. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his steady gaze.

He'd leaned a knee into the mattress. Cradled in his hands waited a cup of tea, steam rising gently from its surface. "Take it."

She did. The cup was warm between her palms.

The mattress rose as he straightened and moved to the window. "I didn't get it so you could stare. Drink."

Tentatively, she raised the glass to her lips. Through the steam rising into her eyes, she saw that he'd closed the door. The tea was sweeter than she expected, but it took her a moment to place the taste of the honey he must have added. "Thank you."

He didn't look at her. "I'm in no mood for one of the fox's lectures. Thank him."

She managed a laugh, quiet and weak though it was.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing. Or, well, that's not true." She sipped her tea again. "It's just… You keep surprising me. You are precisely what the stories say you are, Hiei Jaganshi, and yet at the same time, you are nothing like them."

"Hn. It seems exhaustion has turned you to a fool."

"No, I don't think it has."

A growl rumbled from his chest. In the space of a single blink, he darted to the door. "Sleep. When you wake, Kurama and Genkai will have devised a plan."

She drained the last of the tea, then crawled to the bed's edge and set the cup on the floor. Slumping against the pillows, she stared up at the ceiling. "It needs to include a way to save him."

"Nomi?"

A bubbling thrill ran through her. With it came a sense of peace, a feeling of coming home—just as it had the first time.

"Yes." Her eyelids fluttered closed. Sleep wasn't far. "Make sure it does. On my behalf."

"Hn."

Then he was gone.

When sleep claimed her, she dreamed of Nomi.

* * *

AN: I was surprised (in the best of ways) by how heartbroken you all were last chapter. I had hoped Kalanie had become sympathetic and relatable, but I hadn't dreamed I'd accomplished it as well as last chapter seems to indicate. That was wonderful. With any luck, you'll enjoy this one just as much! I'd love to hear what you think.

As always, thanks so much to everyone who reviewed!


	11. Meddling in the Midst of a Military Mess

"So I'm to remain here—like some powerless nuisance—while you all gallivant off to save the worlds?"

Kalanie stood in the cramped living room where the detectives had once questioned her, her fingers curled like claws into the upholstery of an armchair. A dull headache pounded inside her skull, drumming like a second heartbeat. It had shadowed her ever since she'd woken up, haunting her through her debriefing with Kurama, nearly ruining her ability to shovel down a small breakfast, and now stalking her here.

Across from her, Yusuke lounged on one of the battered couches, his legs crossed at the ankle, an arm thrown over his eyes as if to block out the light. "Sounds about right."

"I will not—"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you will. See, we need people here. Kuwabara's staying. And Genkai. You can help them. Make sure the shrine stays standing while we're gone."

"They're humans."

Yusuke shifted his arm, cracking one dark eye open. "So?"

"Not a single demon of worth will remain behind except me." She leaned forward, the armchair's backing jabbing into her ribcage. "You're treating me like a liability."

"Well… I mean, you sort of are." At her answering snarl, he flapped a hand wildly, as if trying to shoo away his own words. "All I'm saying is that Masaru's probably going to be there, right? You've said yourself a hundred times—and I mean, seriously, at least a hundred—that if he gets near you, you're a lost cause."

True, in theory. Her eyes fluttered shut, and for a perilous moment, she was back in Mazou's grip, flickering between the abandoned train station and _his_ newfound hideout. The armchair's upholstery tore beneath her fingers as she whispered, "He's here. In Human World."

That, at last, drew Yusuke's full attention. He struggled upright. "Come again?"

"I saw him. When Mazou attempted to teleport me. He was waiting on the other end."

"And he was here? How the heck could you know that?"

"The room, the furniture… They were from Human World. I've no doubt."

Yusuke rubbed the back of his neck. A yawn burst from his lips. "I'm way too damn tired for this shit," he muttered. Then more loudly, he added, "Look, that doesn't change anything. Maybe he was in Human World two days ago, but do you really think he'll hang around here when he could be in Demon World helping to move your brother? Because I don't." He lurched to his feet and strode past her, pausing in the doorway. "We can't risk messing this up. Not for your pride. Sorry."

She stared after his retreating back, frustration coiling in her gut. The plan Kurama had detailed to her that morning was nothing like what she'd anticipated. She'd expected all out war. A battle to end all of this. A killing of every puppeteer employed by Project Shell's creators.

After all, when she'd woken, she'd felt the presence of Koenma, the demigod standing just feet outside her room, embroiled in the strategy talks that had consumed the shrine for hours. It had seemed a given that with him would come the full might of Spirit World. The Spirit Defense Force. A second army to bring behind Yusuke's own.

Except that seemed not to be the case.

Instead, they intended a singular, planned strike. Directly at the heart of the transport moving Nomi. The how of it all remained nebulous, too dependent on details they didn't yet know for it to be fully finalized, and they had only twelve days to get that information. Hardly any time at all.

It seemed so weak. Such a cowed, pathetic response. She understood needing to strike down the leaders of Project Shell and certainly there was nothing more important than getting to Nomi, but with their combined strengths, the detectives and SDF could easily wipe out hundreds of lower class demons.

It would be so easy. So simple. Because as much as it pained her to admit, there was no denying that most puppets were weak. Rarely breaching past C Class power levels. Without iron, she was far weaker even than that. And even at her most powerful, when the iron around her was nearly limitless, she barely scraped the middle of B Class.

The puppeteers' powers were limited, and the greater the strength of their targets, the harder it was for a compulsion to take hold. If she had to guess, _he_ might manage to control a demon of Hiei or Kurama's strength, but only if he had no other puppets and only for a time, not indefinitely like he could her.

All of which made their plan all the more vexing.

Unless she was missing something.

With that thought in mind, she abandoned the living room and stalked deeper into the temple. In its back hallway, she stopped and rapped her knuckles against a door. No one answered. She knocked again. "I know you're in there. I can feel you."

The door jerked open.

Hiei stood on the threshold, shirtless, a belt dangling from one hand. Bandages wrapped around his right arm, gloving him from fingertips to elbow. "What do you want?"

Her gaze flicked to the map tacked upon the far wall. "Information. Explanations."

"Hn. I've no time. The fox and I are heading to Demon World. Ask someone else."

"No." She pushed past him, so sudden and swift he didn't have time to fend her off. His room remained unchanged from the last time she'd been here. Empty. Devoid of any personal items. The only difference this time was the rumpled blanket strewn at the foot of his bed.

He growled.

The sound sent a shiver twisting down her spine.

"Twenty minutes. That's all I need." She drew to a halt at the map, tracking the pins across its surface, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle she'd only just begun to grasp. "I imagine your mission can wait that long."

The door rattled closed. A moment later, she felt his blazing heat at her side, warming her arm, sinking into the iron gloving her hand. "Ask your damn questions."

"I have… many." She crossed her arms about her middle, pinching her fingers into her hipbones. "I know much of _him_ and of Project Shell, but very little else. The big picture of the Fall escapes me."

"Kurama explained that to you days ago—or were you not listening?"

"He explained in generalities. What happened to Human World and your allies in Demon World. He didn't explain how it came about. Nor why Spirit World has seemingly forsaken us. Nor _whom_ you're fighting. I'd always assumed it was just the puppeteers, but it's not, is it?"

In their first interrogation of her, she'd thought she'd given them so much information they hadn't had before. Regarding Project Shell, she had, but about the rest… She was beginning to see it had been her knowledge that was limited, not theirs. The sheer volume of red pins tacked across Hiei's map seemed evidence of that.

"Hn, no. They are but a piece of the enemy's forces."

Kalanie turned to face him, studying the contours of his chin, the sharp profile of his nose. He stared back, a heat smoldering in his eyes that set her toes curling in her boots.

"And who is that enemy? Who commands _him_?"

A muscle ticked in Hiei's jaw. His hands balled into fists. "We've heard only rumors. A name that continues to surface—" He cut himself off. "I must start at the beginning. Give me your hand."

Surprise blossomed within her, deepening to outright shock as he seized her fingers in his. The scalding heat of his palm sent fresh shivers down her spine, but if he noticed, he gave no sign. Instead, without a word of explanation, he raised her hand and pressed her fingers squarely against his closed Jagan. Purple light flared beneath his skin, leaking from the Jagan's crease.

"What are you—"

"Quiet."

She felt it then—a hook tugging at her navel, pulling some fractured piece of her soul from her body and into his. For a moment, she tried to fight it, struggling to find the strength to fend him off, but then heat like nothing she'd ever felt enveloped her and acceptance swept in on its wake.

Hiei's voice sounded deep within her mind. _–Stop resisting. Watch.–_

* * *

 _When the barrier fell, he was with Mukuro. He felt it—they_ all _felt it—when the shield went down. It was an implosion of energy. All that power, the great net that had once divided the Demon and Human Worlds, sucking in on itself until it no longer existed at all._

 _The void it left in its wake was like a vacuum._

 _And he let it take him._

* * *

 _The vortex spit him out deep in a human city. Apparitions roved everywhere—some weak, little more than pests, but many stronger, a few he might have even enjoyed pitting himself against. But he left their destruction behind, ignoring the pitiful screams of the humans dying at their claws, drawn on by the need to make sure_ she _had survived._

 _Guided by instinct, he went to the shrine._

 _He reached it last of all. The others had been in Human World already. Kurama tending to his mother. Yusuke crafting a nonsense double-life alongside his human woman. The oaf studying for some sort of master degree Hiei could make no sense of._

 _Even the Spirit World princeling joined them._

 _But Koenma had no more answers than anyone else. The barrier was gone, and there was no telling why._

* * *

 _The days and weeks and months blurred into each other._

 _Human World was nothing but rubble, a vast hell pit of human slaves and ragtag psychics. For a time, they'd thought they could hold out. Fight back. Perhaps even secure the human country of Japan._

 _They were wrong._

 _Likewise, Spirit World crumbled before the loss of human life. Its gates flooded with more souls than it had ever processed. Not even the great human wars of years past had wrought such a loss of life. Before that crush of souls, Koenma retreated._

 _Even Demon World fared little better. The territories were falling apart. Alliances between Yusuke, Mukuro, and Yomi wore thin. Enki pulled away, focusing on staving off claims to his title._

 _Bands of demons began to emerge. They chipped away at the three great territories, claiming land as their own. No common thread seemed to connect them—packs of shapeshifters, tribes of giants, clans of elementals. Others, too. Gangs of mixed breeds and no names._

 _When exactly the puppets first appeared, he couldn't be sure. But he became aware of them when the fighting began in earnest along Alaric's eastern border._

 _He'd been splitting his time between the shrine—protecting Yukina—and Mukuro's stronghold. It had been her orders that took him to the battle at the base of the Mountains of Mourning. That was the first time the disparate groups they'd been fighting had worked as allies. Shapeshifters and giants and elementals alike, all charging to their deaths against the combined might of Hiei and Mukuro's power._

 _It was the clans' leaders who'd born the Sovereign Binds across their arms, though at that time, he'd no name for the markings._

 _Soon, similarly united armies emerged throughout Demon World. The rabble that formed their ranks were unmarked, but their leaders all bore that swirling black ink._

 _It was the beginning of the end._

* * *

 _In the disarray, Mukuro saw opportunity. A chance to widen the sphere of her influence beyond Alaric's failing borders._

 _Even fourteen months after the barrier went down, no one had come forward to directly claim the Fall. There were rumors. Murmurs about machines hidden deep beneath the crust of the Plains of Peril. Mukuro ran with those mutterings, declared herself the engineer of the Fall._

 _Hiei knew it for the lie it was. As did his old teammates. But the Demon World rabble believed her claims, rallied to them._

 _For a time, Alaric grew stronger. Murmurs of the demons losing control of their own bodies had begun to take root, and weak apparitions flocked to a master they thought might protect them._

 _In her foolishness, Mukuro didn't test her followers. Hidden in their ranks came puppeteers. They were like a sickness, sinking their poisonous claws deep into Alaric's weakened defenses. Blind to it all, Mukuro clung to her new power, to the broadening ranks of her subjects._

 _By the time Hiei realized how treacherous her mistakes had proven, it was too late to fight back. The minions far outnumbered Mukuro's loyal forces. Her hold on Alaric crumbled until she remained lord of nothing but a single stronghold._

 _Hiei abandoned her, forsaking his title. Yukina was waiting for him in Human World, though she might not know it._

 _He wouldn't let her brother die._

 _Not for Mukuro's folly._

* * *

 _The oaf had played a different game. He'd become Human World's de facto savior, its only hope as the rest of them grew tangled in Demon World's knotted web. Together with Genkai, he led the construction of the barrier around the old woman's temple. Perhaps it was absurd to replace one barrier with another, but it had held. Longer than anything had in Demon World if nothing else._

 _It wasn't until ten months after the Fall that Urameshi left Hokushin in charge of Tourin, commanding the demon to keep him in the loop of Demon World activity but otherwise trusting him to run Tourin in his stead. Kurama, too, spent nearly a year fighting the war in Demon World, sparing only enough time after the barrier fell to save his human mother before returning to the demon plane._

 _Through it all, the oaf kept the shrine standing. A safe haven for those who needed it. Yukina. Urameshi's woman. Kuwabara's own sister. The fox's mother._

 _Freed of Mukuro, Hiei found a more permanent place amongst his old team and the motley crew of allies they'd accrued over the years. He joined their strategy meetings in a way he hadn't previously, and the alliance he'd forged with Kurama years ago reemerged in full. Together with Yusuke, they became Kuwabara's Demon World envoys, traveling beyond the ravaged barrier to collect new allies or fend off incoming attacks._

 _Above all else, they all agreed the demons marked with that black ink could not be allowed to take hold in Human World._

* * *

 _Nineteen months after the Fall, Hokushin sent word of a large force marching on his fortress in Tourin. He requested help, and Yusuke and Hiei dispatched to assist him._

 _The battle was a bloody massacre._

 _For the first time, the enemy ranks seemed composed of the marked. It was not just their leaders darting amongst the fray who wore that nightmarish ink across their skin, but rather the common soldiers, too._

 _As the dust settled, Hiei stalked the battlefield. Through the acrid smoke, he spotted a fallen foe who had not yet passed on, but as he readied to plunge his katana through the beast's throat and end its miserable life, the apparition had grabbed his cloak. Around the blood upon which it choked, it managed to speak—not a plea for its life, but a name._

Taku.

 _Hiei had heard it before. Like a whisper through the collective consciousness of demonkind._

 _Without the barrier between worlds, it was only too easy for the Jagan to find Kurama in Human World._ –We've a name. Taku.–

–Can you learn more?–

–I can try.–

* * *

 _Try he did._

 _Hiei watched Yusuke return to Human World, depleted of energy but content knowing Tourin remained a holdout against the marked armies. In the wake of his departure, Hiei roved deeper into Demon World. He pressed at the minds of all those he encountered, digging into the darkest corners of their souls, scraping at their hidden secrets._

 _But lowly apparitions were a stupid bunch. He found nothing within them more than the name he already knew._

Taku _._

 _It waited for him in every demon he examined._

 _After a week, he gave up._

* * *

 _His return to Human World brought new surprises. A captured puppet._

 _It was only as he'd searched for her mind, his Jagan closing on nothing but emptiness that he realized what he never had before—in all this time fighting them since the Fall, he'd never felt the mind of a marked one. Even his recent scouring of Demon World's darkest pits hadn't brought him into contact with one._

 _Except it most likely had._

 _And he'd never realized it._

* * *

 _He wanted her dead. This girl he could not sense. This girl who proclaimed herself a threat as loudly as Hiei did himself._

 _The others didn't listen._

 _And so he watched her. He waited for the moment she would turn on them. Only it never came. What he saw instead drew him, as if he were a moth and she the flame—_

* * *

The memories fractured.

Kalanie returned to herself with a forcefulness she wasn't ready for. Her body felt wrong. Too short. Too lithe. Too _cold_. It took her a moment to place why, to realize that she'd grown used to the feel of Hiei's skin, the flex of his muscles and smoldering burn of his power.

She staggered backward, her hand slipping from the fire demon's grip, falling away from his Jagan. The back of her knees collided with his bed, and she collapsed onto the mattress.

Beneath her breastbone, her heart pounded erratically. She pressed a hand over it, willing it to slow and recalling the lack of sensation in Hiei's own chest—or rather, its utter slowness, his heartbeat far more infrequent than Kalanie's had ever been. One beat a minute instead of dozens.

"How did you—" Her words trailed off, her muddied thoughts getting away from her tongue, but she shook her head and started again. "I thought you couldn't find my mind. How did you do that?"

"Hn, I opened my mind to yours rather than the other way around."

Her fingers fisted in the fabric of his bedding. Being in his thoughts had felt personal, like some boundary between them had been forever shattered. How was she meant to be only Kalanie now that she had been Hiei, too?

He strode to his dresser, jerked open a drawer, and pulled forth a red tunic. As he tugged it over his head, he asked, "Did you get the answers you needed?"

Yes. And no.

The questions he'd raised in turn far outnumbered any revelations she'd gleaned. About this mysterious Taku. About the detectives' plans. About Spirit World's failings. And, perhaps most pressing of all, what it meant that he felt as drawn to her as she did to him.

"Where are you going?" she asked. When his sharp gaze cut to her, she added, "With Kurama. I thought the transport was still twelve days off."

"It is. But there are details to work out. Whether Taku will be present. What route they might take." He settled his katana's sheath at his hip then turned to her, the sleek muscles of his arms flexing beneath his tanned skin. "We're to search the Plains of Peril. If our guesses are right, we'll be able to spot their intended route. Likely they've begun to prepare it already."

"Will you come back before the fight?"

"Hn. Obviously."

A stillness fell over them. He was watching her, an emotion tucked within his eyes that she could lay no name to, and despite herself, she was staring straight back, unable to look away.

Distractedly, she clawed for a topic. Anything to end the quiet. The question she settled on was perhaps not the wisest. "Why haven't you told Yukina who you are?"

He stiffened, but she did not take the question back.

After all, his love for the ice demon had burned through every frame of his memories, the sole thread that tied them together. Other emotions flickered at their edges—a constant worry about her well-being, annoyance at her affection for Kuwabara, pride in her adept ability to heal—but through it all, persistent and unshakable, ran the sort of love that drove Kalanie forward, the only thing that fueled her will to live anymore.

The love of a sibling.

Why then did Hiei keep the full depth of that bond from himself and Yukina?

His lips twisted into a frown. "She's happier without me. Without the baggage I carry. The crimes writ across my soul."

Kalanie looked down at her hands. Her reflection peered back at her from the surface of her iron gloves. "She told me she's lonely. That she wishes her brother were here."

"There are some burdens that weigh far heavier than others. Missing the brother she has never known is nothing compared to the disgust she would feel if she knew the truth."

A hollow laugh worked free of Kalanie's throat. "What was it that you said to me? That my Binds are my leash and my collar? My chains? At least I did not choose them for myself as you seem to have chosen yours."

He moved too quickly for her to spot. One second, he leaned against his dresser. The next, he stood between her knees, so close his heat warmed her cheeks. He curled a finger beneath her chin, titling her head back until their gazes met. "Break _your_ leash. Perhaps then I'll break mine."

With that, he was gone.

How long she remained in his bed she could not say. Minutes? Hours? For a time, she felt nothing but the burning stretch of flesh where he'd held her chin. Eventually, the heat faded, leaving her with only the smell of him, a musky mix of charcoal and recent rain. It lived in his sheets, in the cloak he had left hanging from his dresser, in every square inch of this most private of his spaces. She breathed it deep into her lungs.

When at last she stood, an ache in her bones told her that his challenge was one she could not lose.

* * *

AN: Happy holidays, everyone!

This chapter was a fun one to write. I got to reveal a bit of how the Fall happened for our detective friends, play around a bit in Hiei's mind, and toy with some concepts about telepathy that I think are rather fun. Since Kalanie had never experienced someone else's memories, I thought it was cool to explore how the ramifications of the experience might after her (hence the lingering sense of actually being Hiei). I also touched on the idea that demon heartbeats don't work like humans'. In my version of the world, the stronger the demon, the less their heart beats, which is why Hiei's beats much less than Kalanie's.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! More soon!

(P.s. Apparently there's a limit on chapter title length, so I had to amend this Hamilton line in order to fit. Properly, it should be 'Meddling in the Middle of a Military Mess.')


	12. Raise a Glass to Freedom

"Kurama and the short stack are running out of time."

Kuwabara's voice rolled down the hallway to Kalanie's room, joining the early morning light slanted through her curtains in stirring her from sleep. Stifling a yawn, she shoved off her covers, tugged on fresh clothing in the place of her pajamas, and hurried into the hall. She caught only a flash of the human's orange hair before the door thwacked closed behind him. She darted in his wake.

Eleven days had passed since Hiei commanded her to break her chains. Eleven days since her mind and spirit and soul had melded so entirely with his. Eleven days of waiting, watching the shadowed trees out her window, stretching her senses to their fullest in hopes of catching the barest glimmer of his presence.

Nomi's fate may very well be gripped in the fire demon's callused hands.

For that reason, if no other, the clock was ticking on his return.

And if the irritation she heard in Kuwabara's voice was anything to go by, today would prove another day of waiting.

Throwing open the sliding door, she nearly collided with Kuwabara's back as she hurtled into the weak dawn light. With a surprised grunt, the human stumbled forward a step. "Damn it. Urameshi, if that's you—"

"Morning, Kalanie," Botan greeted cheerfully, though Kalanie did not miss the elbow she slammed pointedly into Kuwabara's ribs.

Kalanie dipped her head in greeting. "No word from Hiei yet?" It was an afterthought that she added, "Or Kurama?"

"Nope. _Apparently_ a twelve day countdown means a ten day vacation to those guys."

"Now, Kuwabara, I'm sure that's not true. Maybe they've found something." Botan wagged a warning finger his way. "If they come back with a solid plan, you'll feel bad for doubting them this way."

"Not if it's too late to even put that plan into motion! The transport is supposed to happen tomorrow. _Tomorrow_ , Botan. We're running out of time."

Kalanie paced to the railing. Her fingers curled around the wood, her iron gloves flowing like smooth water at her merest urging. A few flakes of rust frosted across her knuckles. This iron was due for replacing soon. "What if they don't return?"

"Excuse me!"

The high-pitched squeal of Botan's panic shattered the morning's quiet, but Kalanie kept her tone level as she answered. "What if they've been caught? Or, worse, killed? What then?"

Because Nomi still needed to be rescued. He _had_ to be. With or without a plan.

"We're not talking about this." Botan plastered her hands on her hips, frowning sternly. "Not one more word. The boys will come back and we will rescue your brother. Don't you dare say otherwise!"

An unrealistic sentiment if Kalanie had ever heard one.

Sighing, she released the railing and started down the steps. She couldn't bear another day in the shrine's quiet halls. The waiting was too much. It had given the anxiety that thrummed like an ever-present parasite in her chest too much room to bloom, and every second that passed felt like a second that pulled Nomi farther from her grasp.

"Hey, wait!" Kuwabara leapt down the steps, landing with a thud behind her, and latched onto her shoulder.

She turned to him. "Yes?"

He rubbed a sheepish hand through his hair. "Well, I've been thinking. We don't really know what you can do. In a fight, I mean. And since the others are all heading to Demon World… It'd be good if I knew what you can handle."

Averting her gaze, she glared into the distant trees. "I'm not a particularly skilled fighter."

"Yeah, okay, sure. So you claim. But the thing is, after six years around you demons, I know _your_ definition of skill doesn't quite match _mine_." He leaned forward, sticking his face directly into hers. "So what kind of skill are we talking about here? Could you take on Jin? Or Rinku? Maybe Shishiwakamaru?"

Her gloves clinked softly as she curled her fingers into fists. "None of them."

And it wouldn't be close.

She couldn't put up so much as a struggle against fighters of their caliber. They'd crush her in a few measly seconds. One solid wind attack from Jin and she may very well never get up again. No amount of iron in the world would give her the strength to compete with them.

After all, as he'd so often loved to joke, Nomi had inherited their mother's true power. Not Kalanie.

And look where that had got him.

"What about me?" Kuwabara asked, his curiosity undeterred. He was so close she felt his breath hot against her cheeks. It stank of a strange mix of coffee and cinnamon, thanks no doubt to the overly sweet porridge Yukina had taken to cooking for breakfast. "Could you take me?"

She snorted. "Do I really need to answer that?"

Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes accusingly. "That sounds like an insult. And I'll have you know, I'm stronger—"

"It wasn't. An insult, that is. If I can't beat Rinku, I certainly can't beat you. Or have you forgotten about the Dark Tournament?"

"Well, he's gotten stronger since then."

"And you haven't?"

Leaning against the porch's railing, Botan chimed in. "Kuwabara, dear, I do believe you've lost the plot."

"Oh, right." He straightened to his full height and frowned down at her. "Here's what I'm struggling with: if you're so weak, why the heck is Masaru dead set on getting you back, huh? Why not just release your Binds and find himself a new puppet?"

Whatever goodwill she'd been feeling toward him evaporated like so much smoke between her fingers. "This might shock you, Kuwabara, but there's more than one kind of power in these worlds and _he_ couldn't care less about the power _I_ possess. But controlling me—owning me—that's a power he loves."

"Why though? What makes you special?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, blacking out the world. Hell, what she would have given to walk away from this conversation and never return. "You'd have to ask him."

But that wasn't true.

She knew it wasn't.

It was her fault he'd obsessed with her. Her fault for not breaking sooner. Her fault for continuing to fight, long after most puppets were nothing but useless husks. Her fault that her love for Nomi kept her alive and resistant and clinging to hope, even if it were hidden under layers and layers of defeat.

And, worst of all, her fault for _escaping_.

A snarl worked its way into her throat. The ferocity in it startled Kuwabara. He stumbled back a step, hands held up as if to prove he meant no harm.

"You want to see what I can do? Then fight me. I'll show you. After that, leave me be."

He hesitated a moment, his gaze flicking to the porch as if confirming Botan thought this was a good idea. Whatever the ferry girl responded must have been enough to affirm his decision, because soon he was shucking his coat, leaving himself in nothing but loose-fitting pants and a t-shirt.

"Right then," he said, swinging his arms to loosen them up. He paced farther away from the shrine, clearing space to keep any fallout of their battle from reaching Botan. "No serious injuries, got it? No aiming to maim or injure or kill."

Answering with a wordless grunt, she sank to her knees and plunged her fingers into the soil. Her energy snaked from her hand, fissuring deep into the earth to the stores of iron far below. It flowed back to her in a rush. She let it glide over her skin and above her clothes, forming fluid armor across her joints.

"Keep it clean, you two!" Botan called, and when Kalanie spared her a glance, she saw the woman fretting her hands, bouncing anxiously from foot to foot.

If she weren't enraged, she might have rolled her eyes. Neither Kuwabara nor Botan had anything to worry about. They'd see that soon enough.

Kuwabara settled into a fighting stance. "Ready?"

At her nod, his spirit sword blazed to life, its hilt clutched in both his hands, but he remained otherwise motionless, waiting for her to make the first move.

She wished she could surprise him, produce some feat of brute strength to throw him off balance, but pure physical power had never come to her, no matter how desperately she'd sought it years ago. Nor could she attack at a distance. Her iron reacted only as long as she maintained contact with it.

Which left her but one choice.

Her superior speed.

Coaxing her iron into a sword of her own, she launched herself across the grass. Kuwabara reacted instantly, his spirit sword cutting in a blazing arc. Sparks flew from her blade as they crashed together, but before he could lock her into a battle of sheer strength, she darted beneath his guard, twisting her knee up and into his gut.

He staggered, and she followed. Her iron shifted again, the sword rushing back to her and reforming as studded gloves across her knuckles. She landed three quick strikes—two to his ribs, one to his face—before he recovered.

His answering fist caught her squarely in the stomach. The blow knocked her off her feet, and as she scrambled to regain her balance, his spirit sword arced downward. Only a rolling dodge kept her chances alive. Panting, an animalistic need to survive drumming in her temples, she gathered her balance and lunged back to the offensive, but he met her blow for blow.

He wasn't trying. Not fully. Using his spirit sword rather than his dimension sword was proof enough of that, and even if it weren't, she could see the truth in his eyes—his surprise that she'd been true to her word. She was no match for him.

Really, it wasn't even a contest.

She couldn't be sure how long they carried on before he decided to end it. Ten minutes? Twenty? But by the time he shifted his grip on his spirit sword, she was ready for it to be over. She felt every aching hit he'd landed, every kick and punch and cut of his sword. No doubt she'd be feeling them for days.

Still, she caught his final attack against a single forearm. Her boots skid an inch in the dirt, but she refused to buckle as he leaned his full strength into his sword. The iron coating her arm flaked to rust almost more quickly than she could replenish it, sloughing away like some sickly second skin.

But then, just as her legs were about to buckle, Kuwabara's gaze tore from hers, darting to something at her back. The pressure he'd been exerting let up so quickly she stumbled.

"What are you doing—"

A hand knotted in her hair, jerking her head back. The cold press of steel settled against her throat.

She needed no guesses to name her attacker.

"Hiei!" Kuwabara yelled, his spirit sword flickering out of existence. "Let her go! This isn't—"

Kalanie gave him no chance to finish.

In two quick movements, she curled one hand around Hiei's katana and drove her other elbow into his ribs. At the touch of her fingers, his blade turned molten, the steel bending to her will, and as his grip released her hair, she whirled.

Logically, she should have ended it there. Allowed Kuwabara to explain. Stalked off into the woods as she'd originally planned.

But she did none of those things.

Hurling her power deep into the earth, she summoned fresh iron and struck out at Hiei. Metal flowed from her skin to his, encasing his arms in immovable steel, then streaked down his legs and rooted him to the ground. She poured every last bit of iron she'd unearthed into the attack, trapping him so thoroughly he couldn't even drop the useless hilt of his ruined katana.

It left her breathless, her energy entirely depleted. With a hollow laugh, she dropped to one knee. Only a palm splayed against the ground kept her upright.

"Release me." Hiei's power crackled through the air, the sheer heat of it causing fresh sweat to bead across her forehead.

She peered back at him, refusing to back down before his glare. Let him see what she could do, that she was not entirely without defenses. Perhaps she couldn't win an out-and-out fight, but she had her tricks. No one could survive the forest around this shrine for three months without some skill.

It seemed suddenly important that he realize she was more than a weakling to be brushed aside—even if she _was_ worth little more than that.

Kuwabara's shadow slanted over her. "Serves you right, shrimp." He offered a hand to pull Kalanie to her feet. "I say you leave him there. Maybe a little time as a statue will teach him not to interrupt a fight he knows nothing about."

Perhaps she should have. A certain piece of her—the sliver that wanted to trust these people—screamed to abandon him, to walk away and let him sort it out on his own. After all, his interference with their fight could mean only one thing: he'd thought she'd betrayed them. He'd attacked to protect Kuwabara.

Never mind that she'd already been thoroughly beaten.

But the rest of her knew better. Leaving Hiei sheathed in steel solve nothing. Especially not when he'd only done what she'd asked him to. He'd kept his guard up. He was watching her, waiting for the moment she stopped being Kalanie and fell back beneath _his_ control. That moment might never come, but it if did—and Kalanie was sure it would, someday—then she needed someone to be ready.

If that had to be Hiei, so be it.

Besides, she'd made her point. That much was clear in the particular curl of his smirk and the haughty, confident gleam in his eyes.

Hell, how could he set her aflame so damned easily?

Without a word, she pulled away from Kuwabara and slapped a hand against the iron coating Hiei's shoulder. One brush of her energy sent the metal spilling downward, freeing him.

Around the roaring in her ears, she vaguely made out his voice, but she didn't try to make sense of whatever he'd said. Instead, iron trailing her in a molten wave, she broke for the trees.

For once, no one came after her.

* * *

Human World was so miraculously bright. The trees. The sky. The sunset. Each shone with a brilliance that left Kalanie breathless, every so slightly off kilter.

The colors here were nothing like those at home. In Demon World, everything was awash in color—the sky the rusty red-brown of dried blood, the grasses a muddy mix of yellow and brown and orange, the trees full of leaves in cold purple and blue tones—but all of it muted. As if some Spirit World deity had mucked up the saturation when they'd brought the demon plane to life.

That wasn't so in Human World.

Through the detectives' barrier, Kalanie couldn't see the sky, not properly, but she'd spent weeks sleeping beneath its open expanse. Its blue was so brilliantly bright and cheery, glinting to every stretch of the horizon like some strange, inverted sea.

It would be—she had no doubt—Nomi's favorite part of this place.

* * *

Kalanie remained in the forest for hours.

For a time, she simply hunkered against the barrier, nursing her bruised and battered body, but by noon, she grew restless. In the pandemonium of Hiei's return, she hadn't noticed Kurama had rejoined them as well. Now, though, she could feel them all—the detectives and their myriad allies—gathered in the shrine.

She debated attempting to join their talks. Surely, after all, Hiei and Kurama had learned something. If they hadn't… No. She couldn't entertain that worry. Because she was counting on them— _Nomi_ was counting on them—and she refused to believe they would leave the temple come morning without a plan to rescue him.

So she debated, but in the end, she never cleared the tree line. She couldn't. As weak and useless as it might make her, she couldn't.

In the dappled light of the wood, she lost herself in a way she hadn't in weeks. She let go of everything. Of Nomi. Of tomorrow's impending battle and the role she was forbidden to have in it. Of every worry and thought that had kept her tossing and turning in her too soft bed.

She returned to what she'd been after escaping _him_ —a thoughtless creature guided by instinct. There was the whisper of iron calling to her soul, the rush of a breeze through her hair, the evergreen scent of the forest, and little else.

No thoughts. No emotions.

No worries.

But as the sun dipped beneath the horizon and darkness swept like a shroud across the trees, a commotion near the shrine at last drew her back. It took her a moment to place it, the sound drifting through the branches. Soft and melodious. Then louder as she drew closer, rolling to her through the shadows.

 _Music_.

In the clearing before the temple, the detectives had built a fire. Its licking flames danced into the night sky, sparks spiraling upward before falling back to the earth in languid twirls. A crew of them sat around it on blankets, all bunched together in a circle.

From the trees, she could see Yusuke and Keiko's faces, the firelight illuminating the gentle curves of her cheeks and the rough lines of his chin. The human girl leaned into the half-breed, her head tucked into the crook of his shoulder, his jacket hugged tight around her narrow frame. He had one arm looped around her, and with the other, he nursed a bottle of liquor—beer, the human slaves had called it in the tavern where she'd met Mazou.

Knots of demons and psychics milled about. She spotted a gaggle of young psychics bunched around Genkai. The old woman had never looked so animated as she was then, busily regaling the teens with some story Kalanie couldn't quite hear. Across the clearing, Jin hovered twenty feet in the air, roaring with laughter as he twirled Rinku's yoyos around his fingers. The younger demon leapt and spat and cursed, demanding the shinobi return to solid ground and fight him like a man.

It was in searching for the source of the music that her attention roved back to the fire. The notes seemed to emanate from contraption set at Kuwabara's side. She recognized his silhouette by the shape of his hair and his booming laughter. Like Yusuke, he clutched a beer.

A quick glance confirmed most of the attendees were likewise encumbered. Botan and Yukina, sitting on the porch's steps. Shizuru, strolling to Genkai's side. Even Kurama and Hiei, seated across from Yusuke at the fire.

And they all seemed to be laughing, enjoying themselves. Almost as if this were some sort of celebration.

A party before the end of the world.

Whatever it was, she felt decidedly out of place watching them, like some interloping stranger come to ruin their night, but as she turned to meld into the trees, a voice rose in a shout behind her. "Hey, Kalanie! About time you showed your face!"

She sank her teeth into her lip, but turned and raised a hand in a half-wave. "I didn't mean to intrude—"

"Don't even finish whatever excuse you're about to make!" Scrambling to his knees, Yusuke shoved his bottle into the air. "Ever had a beer?"

"No."

"Then get your ass over here and get one!" His words tumbled into each other, all crushed together as if he'd forgotten the proper cadence of speech. "Hiei, Kurama, make space. Kuwabara, get the girl a drink!"

And that seemed to decide it. There was a flurry of activity as they shifted, a gap opening for her to Hiei's left. By the time she reached it, an open beer was waiting, a light mist bubbling up the bottle's neck. She took it from Kurama uncertainly, then settled onto the blanket. Heat warmed her front and right side in equal measure, the fire and Hiei seemingly even matched.

Slumping back onto his butt, Yusuke twined an arm around Keiko once more and launched into a story Kalanie didn't attempt to follow. In moments, it was as though the interruption her arrival generated had never happened. In the midst of a sweeping hand gesture from Yusuke, Kuwabara interjected, and the two devolved into jibes and laughter. All the while, Keiko listened with a happy smile, her eyes half-closed, her drink forgotten in her lap.

Kurama raised his beer and winked. "Drink, Kalanie. Don't try to make sense of it."

She did not drink. "What is all this?"

Silent laughter lit in Kurama's eyes. "Fair enough. An explanation then. What you've stumbled on here is a tradition of ours." His gaze shifted over her head, settling on Hiei, but she didn't try to catch the look that passed between them. "Ever since the barrier came down, there's been much to mourn and far too many battles to fight. Botan thought—and I agree—that we could use something to bolster us, something to remind us of _why_ we're fighting. So before days like tomorrow, we come together and we tell stories and we laugh and—more than anything—we try to remember each other as we are, rather than as we might become."

"Hn. Sentimental human nonsense."

"Yet here you sit, Hiei."

The fire demon bristled, but made no further argument.

They were close enough to touch. If she reached out, she could tangle her fingers in his.

It startled her how tempting she found the thought.

Tentatively, watching the firelight dance off Hiei's sharp features, Kalanie raised her bottle to her lips. The beer slid down her throat, cold and refreshing and nothing like she'd expected. "It's so… weak."

"You might be surprised to find humans enjoy drinking for purposes other than seeking oblivion." Kurama took a swig of his own beer, emptying the less dregs of it, then rolled the bottle between his palms. "I believe this was our last case. A shame."

Or not. For Kalanie's money, a bottle of giantkiller or a shot of blood whiskey was better than this human swill.

"You know," Yusuke said, raising his voice until all eyes swung his way, "Kuwabara's got some explaining to do."

"What are you on about, Urameshi?"

"Well, last I recalled, you had an honor code, didn't you?" Yusuke angled the neck of his beer in Kalanie's direction, ignoring Kuwabara's undignified squawk, and continued, "Does Kalanie not qualify as a girl or something? Because those bruises you gave her are something nasty."

Without thought, Kalanie raised her bottle to her cheek, pressing its cool barrel to the bruise mottled across her jawbone. "I initiated it."

"Damn right, she did!"

Yusuke shrugged one lazy shoulder. "Seems like a bullshit excuse to beat up a girl to me, but I guess it's your honor code, so…"

"Are you asking for a fight, Urameshi? Because it sure sounds like you are. Don't make me bruise you worse than I did her!"

"As if you could."

Roaring indignantly, Kuwabara thundered to his feet, then swung a punch Yusuke's way and nearly staggered straight into the fire. With a sleepy yelp, Keiko scrambled out of the way as Kuwabara careened into the half-breed. A moment later, the two men were entangled in a mess of sluggish kicks and missed punches, rolling about in the dirt as if they had not a care in the world.

Chuckling lowly, Kurama stood, dusted off his pants, then crossed to Keiko and helped her to her feet. "I think I'm in need of another drink. How about you, Keiko?" They drifted off together, leaving Kalanie alone with Hiei but for the writhing mass that was Yusuke and Kuwabara.

Staring into the crackling flames, she took another long draught from her beer. Then, soft as a whisper, she murmured, "Thank you. For remembering. For intervening. "

Hiei's response was so slow in coming she began to think he hadn't heard her, but at last, his chin dipped down a single degree.

In the ensuing quiet, her heart beat loud as a drum in her ears. Her body still remembered the plodding pace of his pulse, slow and powerful and so much grander than her own. Would she ever forget how it had felt?

As Yusuke and Kuwabara at last fell still, collapsing onto their backs in the dirt, she drained the last of her beer and readied to stand. Whether she intended to retreat into the woods or find another bottle she hadn't yet determined, but no sooner had she begun to rise than Hiei reached out, his hand encircling her wrist.

In an instant, she was back in the kitchen weeks ago, clutching his arm as he uttered Nomi's name. Now, they stood reversed, but the effect was the same when he murmured, "We _will_ free Nomi. _I_ will."

He released her then, his hand shifting back to his raised knee, but she made no move to leave him. Not then. Not an hour later as Genkai and Kurama ushered the human girls off to sleep. Not even at midnight when Yusuke drifted inside, Kuwabara slumped against his shoulder.

Only when the fire had burned down to little more than coals did she stir. Hiei moved in turn, rising in a rustle of black cloth, but they exchanged not a word as they parted ways, Kalanie retreating to her bedroom and Hiei slipping deeper into the shrine.

Still, she knew—deep in her bones—that he would fight for Nomi as she would, that though she would be absent in tomorrow's fight, Nomi wouldn't be alone. In that, she found comfort.

However little it might be.

* * *

AN: Some of you have been asking to see Kalanie fight, so I hope this chapter satisfies that a bit! The scene at the end with the whole gang gathered took me ages to work out. It's hard to account for so many people all at once, but I hope I struck a good balance.

Last chapter got less reviews than most, but those of you who reviewed really seemed to love it, which makes me so happy! I hope you enjoy this one just as much!


	13. In the Eye of a Hurricane

They departed at dawn.

In the solemn quiet, as the sun's first rays peeked through the trees, Kuwabara tore a hole between the worlds. Sweeping in a smooth arc, his dimension sword gleamed as if it had been wrought in gold, its edges shining with an otherworldly light.

The resulting portal yawned wide as a maw, beckoning any soul brave enough to pass beyond its threshold. The demons who called the mountain shrine home were only too eager to comply. One after another, they leapt through the gaping chasm. Yusuke. Kurama. Hiei. Jin. Touya. Chu. Rinku. On and on. The hope of humanity.

But more than that, the hope of all three worlds.

* * *

Kalanie watched it all from her bedroom, peering through the curtains. A gnawing anxiety writhed between her ribs, winding gnarled fingers around her heart. If all went as planned, come sundown, Nomi would be here. In this compound. With her.

Free.

Safe.

 _Reunited_.

The very idea of it was almost too much to take in.

So she didn't. Instead, she focused on Shishiwakamaru disappearing through the portal, on Genkai barking orders for Yukina and Keiko to go back to bed, on Kuwabara sealing the hole he'd opened.

But as quiet fell again, nothing but the trilling of distant birds disturbing the forest's silence, she crumpled to the floor. The bony angles of her knees bit into her cheeks as she wrapped her arms about her shins and began to sob.

The cries shook through her body, twisting up her spine and knotting in her throat, great mewling gasps for air that left her breathless and broken. Tears soaked into her pants, damping her skin beneath.

Hell, but she _missed_ him. So much. More than she'd dared truly think about until now, until this moment when he was both so very close and so very far away all at once.

"Please," she whispered—to her knees, to Hiei, to whatever monstrous Spirit World god might still be listening. "Please bring him back to me."

* * *

An hour later, Kalanie stepped into the kitchen with her head held high, no sign of her tears left to reveal her weakness.

Once she'd gathered herself enough to risk the hallways, she'd showered, scrubbing the dried tear tracks from her cheeks with a vigor that left her palms stinging and her face red, then stood before the mirror and braided her hair with painstaking care, twisting her rampant locks into tight submission. All the while, she schooled her emotions to a neutral calm, shoving away the nervous jitters that had plagued her all night.

As so often seemed the case, Botan was hovering at the coffee pot. "Let me guess," she said, her voice ringing an octave too high, "no coffee this morning?"

"Not _any_ morning."

"Right, right." Her hands fluttered uselessly before she clamped them together atop the counter. "It's rather foolish, isn't it?"

Kalanie sank into a chair at the table. "What is?"

"Being so nervous. Koenma started sending Yusuke on life-or-death missions when he was barely even a teen, after all, and if he could survive those, he can do this." She bobbed her head in affirmation. "Yes. Of course, he can. They all can."

Averting her eyes, Kalanie answered, "So the stories say."

"The stories?" Botan perked up, all but bouncing to the seat across from Kalanie's. She cupped a mug of coffee in both hands, steam rising in lazy tendrils from its surface. "What stories?"

But it had only been a phrase, a means of diverting the conversation away from fears Kalanie couldn't look at too directly. She'd heard no stories of the detectives—at least, not the way most demons had over the last six years. For her, they were men who lived within reports she'd been forced to study. They were data points and Dark Tournament footage, lists of strengths and weaknesses and battle strategies. By the time the first whispers of Yusuke's name reached the Forest of Fools, she'd already been under _his_ control for months.

Luckily, she was saved from saying as much by Kuwabara stomping into the kitchen. "I hate waiting!" he declared. "I don't care if I need to stay here to help keep the barrier up—being left behind is still a load of crap. It's unfair!"

Botan startled to her feet. "Coffee, Kuwabara?"

He flapped a hand. "Nah, I've already had five cups."

"Oh, I should have guessed. You _do_ seem high energy for so early in the morning."

If he caught the wink Botan tossed Kalanie's way, he gave no indication as he stomped to the icebox the humans kept their perishable food in. He riffled through its drawers, but emerged empty-handed. "You know, I'm not even hungry. I'm just in here because I can't stand another moment out there—" he jerked a thumb toward the window "—waiting around like I'm useless."

Kalanie knew that feeling only too well. The ache of it had haunted her ever since Kurama informed her she'd play no role in Nomi's rescue, hollowing out a place in her chest and hunkering there like a plague intent on rotting her soul from the inside out. It screamed and whined and needled that she should have been in Demon World—doing _something_ —not here, waiting for someone to save Nomi in her place.

She hated it.

Squeezing her knees up to her chest, she rolled inward, compressing her body until there was no room left in her ribcage for anxiety. Time for facts. "Do we have a timeline for their return?"

Kuwabara's eyes widened fractionally before recognition flitted across his blunt features. "Right. You pranced off into the woods yesterday and missed Kurama filling us in. You know, you didn't need to bolt like that. The shrimp wasn't pissed. He actually seemed… impressed?"

Botan bobbed her head. "Most certainly."

"I didn't leave to avoid Hiei." She dug her fingers into her calves, pressing her cold iron along the outer grooves of her shins.

"Sure. Whatever you say." Grinning, Kuwabara hoisted himself onto the counter and rocked his head back to study the ceiling. "Anyway, Hiei found your brother, best he can tell. Said there's an energy signal under the Plains of Peril—which, can we just stop to talk about how ridiculous a name that is?"

Botan clucked her tongue chidingly.

Kuwabara cleared his throat. "Never mind. So yeah, Hiei sensed an aura under the plains that reminded him of yours. But stronger. Way stronger. He figures that's got to be your brother."

 _Way stronger_. Despite everything, she couldn't help a flutter of pride. Yes, that was Nomi. "Sounds about right."

Soft footsteps announced Genkai's arrival. Kalanie twisted to see the psychic in the doorway. "Hiei only recognized your brother's energy because it's so similar to your own," she said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. Her sharp gaze roved to Botan and Kuwabara before flitting back to Kalanie. "It was hidden deep beneath the plain, no doubt in the facility that shelters the original Project Shell. Even once Hiei sensed it, it took them nine days to find the bunker's entrance."

Kalanie read the unsaid accusation in the woman's eyes. "I couldn't have told you where it was even if the Binds didn't forbid it." A strand of hair had slipped free of her braid and dangled into her eyes. She blew it away. " _He_ only took me there once, the last time I saw my brother. Before the Shell was even operational. I saw nothing of how we got there—he made sure of it."

"Very well." Genkai's features softened, though only just. "The boys intend to ambush the transport as it leaves the underground compound. There's just the one entrance. If they move quickly, they'll have the element of surprise."

"How will they know when that is?"

"When the barrier rises."

 _Ah_. She should have known.

"We should feel it, too. Even here. That will be their signal. Project Shell will be offline, indicating your brother is on the move. With any luck, they'll have him secured not long after."

Kalanie frowned. "Will they be in contact? If the barrier is up, how will they get back here?"

"Easy," Kuwabara said. He tapped the tip of one long finger against his temple. "Hiei will let me know once they're ready for a portal."

The memories the fire demon had shown her flashed through her mind. It had seemed as though he'd only been able to reach Kurama from Demon World because the barrier had fallen. "The Jagan can do that despite the barrier?"

Genkai's lips pressed thin. "Kuwabara's heightened awareness makes him more susceptible to the Jagan than the average human. Even with the barrier, Hiei should be able to reach him."

Which meant it was just a matter of time—of waiting. They'd thought of all the answers. Now, she had to trust that they could win, these men who'd forged themselves into legends. If anyone could do it, surely it must be them.

Her feet thudded to the floor. Splaying a hand against the table, she lurched to her feet. "May I see Mazou?"

* * *

They'd moved Maz from the interrogation room.

But for its lack of windows, her new holding cell was little different than Kalanie's own bedroom. Well, that and the barrier crackling on all sides, turning the room into a veritable cage.

Mazou lay curled on her bed when Genkai let Kalanie in. The demon didn't stir as Kalanie paced to the corner and sank down against the wall, resting her temple against the cool plaster. For a time, silence held them. Kalanie let it sooth her racing heart, allowing her breathing to time itself to Mazou's soft exhales.

"I expected you to go," Mazou said at last, shifting beneath her blankets until she could see Kalanie. Her dark curls had flattened on one side, as if she'd been lying on them for days on end. "To save him. To fight."

"The detectives didn't think it wise."

"And you trust them?"

"Do I have a choice?" Kalanie laughed softly, but then, as much to her surprise as Mazou's, she added, "I think I do though. They'll fight for him." _Hiei_ would.

Mazou rolled onto her back. "He's all I can think about. All the time. He's even in my dreams." Her voice hitched, and she choked down a fresh breath—as sure a sign as any of a compulsion at work. "Your brother, I mean. Not _him_. I don't know how you've gone on, knowing he's in their hands."

"Because I have to. Someone has to. How else will he ever get free?"

"What did they do to him, Nie? I'm still not sure I get it." The bed creaked as Mazou sat up. She ran a hand through her rumpled curls. "When I first heard about Project Shell, I thought it was some kind of generator. Everything I've heard since then… Well, I don't get how he fits in."

Kalanie thought of the file Kurama had shown her weeks ago, the stack of schematics and documentation he and Hiei had stolen from the encampment at the Wailing Waters. In it, there were sketches of the confinement chamber, illustrations of the system that would pour molten iron into Nomi's containment tank and filter rusted waste out after he depleted it. They'd tested it on her four years ago—confirming the superheated metal wouldn't scald her skin—and the pain she'd felt as it leeched her energy away had rattled her so thoroughly she'd risen from the fog of _his_ control for the first time in months.

But all of that was secret. Not something she could share with Mazou, especially not after she'd so blatantly revealed her lack of knowledge. The compulsions would never let her.

Biting her lip, she toyed with the frayed hem of her sleeve. "Remember when we were young and that channeler passed through our village?"

"You can't tell me, can you?" Mazou slumped. "Of course you can't—"

"Maz, answer the question. Do you remember him?"

"Maybe. Denku? Something like that."

"Exactly," Kalanie said. "He climbed to the top of old Sekou's during an electrical storm, all the way to the tip of the spire, and he let the lightning strike him. His power levels spiked. Skyrocketed."

"Same as when you touch iron." Mazou's brows creased together, her forehead puckering. "What's your point?"

"Hear me out." She peered down at the iron coating her hands, seeing herself in the reflective surface on her palms. Her cheeks had filled out, the shadows beneath her eyes had lessened, and if she squinted just right, she could almost see the girl she'd been way back then, when Denku had leapt down from Sekou's roof and all but created a miracle. "When he came down, do you remember what he did? Because I do. I remember how it felt when he took my hand and channeled a piece of his newfound power into me. More energy than I'd ever possessed. To this day, I've never rivaled it."

Mazou was nodding, recognition dawning in her eyes, but Kalanie carried on, lost in the memory of that borrowed strength. "He did the same for you and a dozen others, imbuing us all with energy he'd drawn from the storm. It didn't last. We burned through it in hours, too busy enjoying it to dwell on how he'd done it."

"I could teleport _anywhere_." A grin tugged at Mazou's lips. "It was incredible."

"It was. For us." Kalanie curled her hands into fists, and her mirrored-self rippled and disappeared in her gloves. "But for Denku… He was left powerless, drained until the next storm."

The wonder faded from Mazou's eyes. Her smile dimmed. In little more than a whisper, she asked, "What does this have to do with your brother?"

"Denku was a conduit. Nothing more, nothing less. He could capture power and transfer it on, but he didn't use it for himself. Or maybe he could and we just never saw it, but I don't think so. That was his fate, his lot in life. To capture energy and channel it for others. An eternal power source."

Just as Nomi had become.

They'd turned him into a puppet, same as her, but a puppet controlled with chains and pain and brutality, not the ink that pulled Kalanie's strings. For two years, he'd been a conduit for _their_ schemes.

His power wasn't his. His choices weren't his. His very _life_ wasn't his.

But it could be. Soon, it could be.

Wrapping her arms tight about her stomach, Kalanie murmured, "Tell me a story, Maz. Any story."

And Mazou did. Dozens of them. About the village where they'd grown up. About the places she'd been after leaving home. About serving as a messenger for high-class apparitions, clawing her way up Demon World's ladder until Lord Yomi himself employed her talents every once and awhile.

All the while, Kalanie tried to lose herself in the thrum of Mazou's voice, in her bright laughs and quick wit. She tried to forget the terror clawing through her ribs, tearing at her sternum as if it wanted to shear her open, forever exposing the weak beat of her erratic heart.

She tried. And she failed.

But hell, how she tried.

* * *

When the barrier rose, Kalanie felt its presence burst across her consciousness.

One moment, the space around her felt boundless, as if it extended endlessly in all directions. A breath later, a spiteful god cleaved that grand expanse into pieces. The change was profound, earth-shattering—and yet, somehow, nearly imperceptible. Here one second, gone the next.

It left Maz gasping. Rattled, she clutched at her chest, whatever story she'd been weaving long forgotten.

Perhaps Kalanie should have stayed, taken a moment to explain, but she didn't. She couldn't. Instead, she lurched to her feet and bolted for the door. Tossing an apology over her shoulder, she shoved it open and passed through the barrier trapping Mazou. The door thudded closed behind her.

Her pulse pounded in her temples as she ran, weaving her way back to the shrine's main halls, racing toward Kuwabara's aura. She found him in the clearing out front, his dimension sword in hand.

"You felt it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I did."

Sweat beaded along his brow. "Feels like someone chopped my arm off."

Did it? Not for her. In fact, the sensation had already faded. The world felt no different than it had minutes before.

Only then, as her heartbeat began to slow, did she remember the wait was not over. The barrier had risen, but there was no telling how long it would take for Nomi to be brought aboveground. Nor how much time the detectives would need to secure him.

Slowly, each movement a carefully orchestrated effort, she sank onto the steps and patted the open space beside her. "Come. Wait with me."

For a moment, Kuwabara seemed poised to argue, his lips parted on some half-baked refusal, but then his sword flickered away. His hand fell to his side. "I'm sick of waiting."

"Me, too."

* * *

"Shit!"

Kalanie startled as Kuwabara surged to his feet. "What? Is it Hiei—"

"It was trap. A fucking trap." The psychic's dimension sword flared in his hands. Still spitting curses, he slashed it through the air and rent a gaping hole between the worlds. Instantly, energy signals flickered along her awareness—the detectives, their allies, scores of puppets.

More questions clogged in her throat, but she swallowed them down and settled into a fighting stance, readying her iron. This was her assigned task. Protect the portal. Keep puppets from infiltrating the temple compound. Hold the line until her allies brought Nomi through.

She would not fail.

But the demons that poured through the portal weren't enemies.

First came Jin, dragging Touya after him. The ice apparition slumped against Jin's back, his head lolling. Unconscious, but not dead. His aura still pulsed, weak as a candle, but present nonetheless.

Rinku was next. Chu a second later. Each sported injuries that twisted Kalanie's stomach into knots. Shattered bones. Gaping wounds. Then a wave of apparitions she knew from days spent at the shrine, by face if not name.

After that, a lull. She closed ranks with Kuwabara, her iron writhing in her hands. Questions clawed like knives in her throat. Nomi. Was he safe? Did they have him? "What happened?" she managed, sneaking a glance at the human's stricken face. "What did Hiei tell you?"

"Only that they'd been tricked. That's all—"

The portal spat Kurama onto the grass. As his feet hit the ground, his left leg buckled, and Kalanie darted forward, wrapping an arm around the fox's waist to keep him standing. His frame dwarfed hers, and she nearly stumbled leading him to the steps. As she twisted back to the portal, his fingers caught her wrist. "Kalanie, we tried…"

No.

She wouldn't listen. She refused.

Hiei had sworn. He'd _promised_. And he knew what that meant to her. He knew why she needed to get Nomi back. He—

The Jaganshi burst from the portal in a splattering of blood. The bandages that normally wrapped his right arm were missing. In their place, a black dragon twined over his flesh, its body covered in blood spilling from a gash in his shoulder.

He was alone.

Nomi wasn't with him.

A heartbeat later, Yusuke appeared. "Close it! Kuwabara!"

"On it!" Throwing out his hands, Kuwabara withdrew the spirit energy that kept the portal open. It flickered, its edges fading, shrinking in on themselves.

Nomi's name rung in Kalanie's ears, echoing in time to her heartbeat. Panic surged through her veins as she lunged for the portal. She had to get to Demon World. She had to find Nomi. Someone had to—

An arm snagged around her chest. She snapped back against a solid torso. Hot, wet blood dampened her shirt.

The portal closed.

She fell to pieces.

* * *

AN: I swear, at some point, I'll stop torturing Kalanie. We just haven't reached that point... Next chapter is a very fun one, I can't wait to post it!

I have officially received revision notes from my agent, which means my brain is now consumed with sentient robots, desert sandstorms, and twisted politics. As a result, I'll be taken a break from drafting this story until those edits are done, but don't fret! I have a significant lead on drafted material, and in all likelihood, I'll be done my revising before I run out of chapters to post.

Thank you endlessly for my reviewers last chapter. I adored hearing what you all had to say!

Happy New Year, everyone! (Here's to hoping 2017 is nothing like 2016.)


	14. No Beat, No Melody

"Listen to me, woman—"

 _No_.

Kalanie was done listening—done trusting these people who had done nothing but control her for weeks. They'd sworn to get Nomi, to free him, to bring him back to her, but she saw now they hadn't meant it.

They'd abandoned him.

 _She'd_ abandoned him.

Snarling, she thrashed beneath Hiei's grip, bucking against his superior strength. His forearm was corded muscle, pressed across her chest like a vice, but she clawed at his skin, her iron shifting into talons and slicing him to the bone. A growl shook through him, rumbling against her back.

"Release me!" Driving an elbow backward, straight into the hollow between his ribs, she jarred free of his hold and whirled on Kuwabara. "Open a damn portal."

The psychic shook his head, stumbling back before she could reach him, and looked to Yusuke. "Urameshi, what happened?"

Iron coalesced in Kalanie's hands, sharp as knives. "No. No more excuses. Give me a damn portal. I'm going after him—"

Hiei seized her arm, yanking her around. The force of his tug brought her barreling into his chest, too close to wedge her hands between them, too close to manage any leverage for escape. He glared down at her, his ragged breath bursting across her cheeks, hot as the innards of a furnace. "He wasn't there. _Nomi_ wasn't there."

 _Liar_.

"I never should have trusted you," she hissed. "You toyed with me. Made me think you'd save him. But you never planned to, did you?"

Her iron writhed once more, rolling like a molten wave up his hands. Grimacing, he threw his heat against her, smothering her power beneath his own. Even weakened, his eyelids at half-mast, he could bat her aside as if she were little more than a gnat.

Yet he didn't.

"Kalanie," he growled, "listen. Nomi was not there. We were tricked. Somehow. You won't be going after him if Kuwabara opens a portal. You'll be chasing ghosts, walking into the same trick that got us."

"No." She twisted her wrists from his hold and seized his collar. The bloody remains of his shirt crumpled beneath her fingers. "I felt the barrier go up. They're moving him. Project Shell is offline."

"Hiei speaks the truth, Kalanie," Kurama said. He'd managed to regain his feet. Blood flowed sluggishly from a gash in his thigh, and he pressed a pale hand against the injury, his impassive eyes unreadable. "Your brother wasn't at the Plains of Peril. I believe he was, days ago, when Hiei sensed him there, but by this morning, he was gone. I'm sorry."

More lies.

They had to be lies.

Nothing else made sense.

"You're wrong."

"We're not."

Yusuke groaned, slumping onto his ass in the grass. "Why the hell would we lie about this? Huh? Think about it. Getting your brother back is the only way to end all this bullshit—or so _you_ say. So why wouldn't we do it if we could?" His eyes narrowed to slits. "Better yet, why would we get our asses kicked if we didn't have to?"

A flurry of movement on the porch disturbed their stalemate. The door slid open, revealing Genkai and the detectives' myriad women. "Enough yelling," Genkai barked. "You want to alert every damn refugee in the tents about what happened here?"

Yusuke scoffed. "Don't scold me, Grandma. I'm not in the mood."

The psychic ignored him. "Keiko, Shizuru, make sense of their injuries. Get those who need healing to Botan and Yukina. Girls, set up inside. Heal what absolutely needs it. Treat the rest with bandages and the like. Dimwit, with me. Tell me what happened."

Without further argument, the gathered demons broke ranks. Kalanie barely processed any of it. All she could think of was Nomi. Where he was now. If he was in pain. Whether he could ever forgive her for letting him down so thoroughly.

The fight went out of her. Her knees buckled. Wordlessly, Hiei followed her to the ground. His grip shifted, his hands slipping up to her biceps. "We failed you." Tension creased his brow. " _I_ failed you."

A sob lodged behind her teeth. She refused to let it loose. Not in front of him. Not here.

His left hand released her. Its thumb rose to her chin, tipping her head up until their eyes met. "Get me to my room. Then I'll show you."

Show her what?

But she couldn't find her voice, and so she rose to her feet without question, drawing him up beside her. Numb, barely aware of what she was doing, she wrapped an arm around his waist, then tugged his right arm over her shoulders and held it there, bearing the brunt of his weight as they began to move.

At the steps, Keiko stopped her. "Hiei needs healing. More than you can give. Bring him to Yukina."

"Hn. No. My room."

Keiko worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "You heard Genkai. Your shoulder needs actual attention. Go see Yukina or Botan. Please."

Kalanie felt Hiei stiffen, spotted the telltale spark of irritation in his eyes. She spoke before he could. "I'm not a healer, but I can treat his injuries. Bandage them as needed. I'll handle it."

If nothing else, it would give her something to do. Some means of distraction. An alternative to the despair curdling within her, sinking poisonous fingers into her heart.

Keiko hesitated, bouncing uneasily from foot to foot. "Genkai won't like this, but if you say so…"

"I do."

* * *

By the time they reached Hiei's room, Kalanie's heart had slowed, the rushing in her ears fading enough for her to hear her own thoughts. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks as she leveraged the door open and helped Hiei inside.

How she'd acted outside was pitiful. Weak. Pathetic.

Who was she kidding? What would she have accomplished if she'd managed to force Kuwabara's hand? As soon as she stepped into Demon World, she'd be vulnerable to _him_ , and she'd be no good to anyone—least of all Nomi—once he got his claws back in her.

Then Nomi would still be lost.

She'd still have failed.

Gently, she eased Hiei onto his bed. Her gaze flitted around his featureless room. "Bandages?" she asked hollowly.

Hiei's jaw clenched. For a moment, she thought he might comment on the panic fraying her edges, but in the end, he said only, "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. Your shoulder needs to be bound or you'll bleed out in this bed."

Ignoring her, he jerked his chin at the mattress. "Sit. I want to show you what happened."

"Damn it, Hiei," she spat, anger flooding her veins, burning away the fear. "Don't force me to drag Yukina here—"

" _After_ you will bind my shoulder, but now, _sit_."

Snarling, she did as bidden.

His face betrayed nothing as he turned to her. "Hand."

She offered one. Just as he had two weeks ago, he raised it to his Jagan and pressed her fingertips against the eye's crease. Purple light flared beneath his skin. His consciousness slid against hers. With it came his heat, all-encompassing and strangely calming. This time, she knew to relax when the tug came at her navel, and as she fell into him, slipping into his memories, she didn't fight it.

* * *

 _Hiei's boots landed on the Plains of Peril with a jarring thud, but he betrayed no sign of the impact as he surveyed the rolling grasslands. A stiff wind scuttled through the grasses, swaying their russet stalks. It carried the stench of rotting meat, but Hiei couldn't spot a source._

 _At his back, the others were gathering themselves. Yusuke. Kurama. The ragtag host they'd pulled together._

" _All right, you two," Yusuke said, "you must have found a place for us to wait, yeah? Where is it?"_

 _Straightening his tunic with deft hands, Kurama watched as Kuwabara's portal winked out of existence. "There's a cave near here. We can camp there until we feel the barrier rise. It's close enough that we'll be able to make our move with plenty of warning."_

" _And where's the opening to this bunker exactly?" Yusuke swiveled, one hand raised to shield his eyes from the rising sun._

" _Hn. Follow me."_

* * *

 _Hidden beneath scree and low-lying brush, Project Shell's entrance was a thick, metal hatch built into the ground. To the unobservant eye, it may very well have been invisible. But Hiei had found it, and he'd felt a power like Kalanie's contained somewhere beneath it._ Nomi _. Of that, he had no doubt._

" _Not sure I actually see anything," Yusuke said, squinting in the hatch's direction, "but if you say it's there, I guess we'll take your word for it."_

" _It's there, Yusuke." Kurama seemed ill at ease, tensed to spring. The others appeared not to notice, but Hiei saw it—the bend in his knees, the way his gaze danced along the horizon, scanning for threats. "Now we must move. If Taku has sentries posted, they'll sense even our diminished auras if we loiter too long."_

" _Lead on, fox boy. Let's get this over with."_

* * *

" _Does it seem like we've been waiting a long time or is that just me?" Yusuke clamped a hand onto Hiei's shoulder and leveraged himself out of the sunken cave where their insurgent force had hunkered. "I mean, if my stomach is anything to go by, it's been hours."_

" _Three hours, seventeen minutes." Kurama crouched to Hiei's left, his focus on the grasses swaying in the distance._

 _Their hideout was located a mile due north of the bunker's hatch. Once Nomi was on the move, they could reach the entrance—or more aptly, exit—in little more than seconds._

" _Think they're going to get this shitshow on the road any time soon?"_

" _If I could predict Taku's movements, I'd be far more confident in our victory today, Yusuke."_

 _Scowling, the half-breed leapt back into the cavern. "I hate when you cop attitudes, Kurama. Leave the hissy fits to Hiei."_

 _Before Hiei could muster the sort of scathing retort Yusuke's bullshit warranted, the barrier's resurrection knocked the breath from his lungs. Thoughts about Yusuke's insolence evaporated, and as one hand rose to his katana's hilt, he surged to his feet. "Time."_

 _Kurama remained motionless. "Not just yet."_

" _They're moving him."_

" _Yes, but they'll need time to get him aboveground. No doubt they'll move quick, but if we're quicker, we reveal our hand too early." Peering into the gloomy cavern below, Kurama pitched his voice low. "Prepare yourselves. We move in minutes."_

* * *

 _There was little in the world as welcoming as the wind's roar. When Hiei ran, fast as he could, all else fell away behind the scream of the air. It was in the crush of a slipstream that he felt most himself—most free._

 _As the grasslands blurred beneath his feet, the mile between him and Taku's bunker shrinking rapidly, he thought of Kalanie and her chains, then of the brother she'd trusted him to save. Neither free._

 _Not yet._

 _It was that distraction that slowed his reaction time. Only by seconds. And yet enough._

 _The blast caught him across the chest, burning away his dragon's wrappings in an instant and tearing deep into his shoulder, cutting all the way to the bone. He staggered, but drew his katana and blocked the puppet's next blow. In an instant, hundreds of energy signals flickered into existence. Puppets. Everywhere._

" _Kurama! Yusuke!"_

 _But his warning came too late. The puppets engulfed their band of fighters, pressing in on all sides._

 _His katana became a streak of silver, slashing and cutting, blocking and parlaying. Blazing black down his arm, the dragon screamed for release, its call hollering within him like the beating of a war drum. He didn't release it. His promise to Kalanie echoed back to him, the memory tinged with the scent of a campfire and the flickering image of the tears gathered in her eyes._

 _The dragon would incinerate the masses besieging them, but if Nomi were here, it would claim him, too._

 _Ignoring the blistering pain in his shoulder, he fought his way to Kurama, and together, they forged a path to Yusuke._

" _Where the hell did these bastards come from?" Yusuke screamed. Overhead, Jin dipped and dove around a flock of winged puppets, drawing their aerial assault away, but there were too many for the shinobi to hold off on his own, and Yusuke fired a spirit gun at their flank, decimating dozens in the singular blast. "They weren't here before. I know my spirit senses are shit, but I would have felt this many assholes loitering around."_

" _Their energies must have been disguised," Kurama said, deflecting a pulse of energy from a puppet and lashing back with his rose whip. "Hiei, do you sense Kalanie's brother?"_

 _He didn't._

 _Not in the mass of puppets swarming from the opened bunker hatch. Not in the grasslands farther beyond. Not even in the deep recesses below._

 _The realization swept through him like a chill, dampening the fire coursing in his veins._

" _He's not here."_

" _Then we've been tricked. Contact Kuwabara. Get us out of here."_

* * *

 _The portal sheared through the sky, nearly rending through Rinku as it did. The young demon stumbled back from it, his yoyos flying as he cleared a path. "Jin! Get Touya through!"_

 _Their escape was chaos. The puppets were too numerous, flooding endlessly from the bunker. The sheer number of puppeteers needed for such an army seemed impossible, all the more so because the demons were strong, not the mindless scum Hiei had grown used to. They equaled Kalanie's power—manageable on their own, but too much in such vast numbers._

 _As Kurama disappeared into the portal's maw, Hiei cast his senses wide one final time, searching for Nomi, for that telltale power he'd grown to recognize in Kalanie. It was nowhere to be found._

 _Yusuke fired off another spirit gun. The ball of blue energy blazed across the grasslands. "Hiei, go! I'm on your heels!"_

 _Snarling, he struck a final blow. The dragon streamed from his arm with a blast of concussive power. It streaked across the plain, ravaging the puppets' ranks, scattering the weaklings like so much nothing, but their deaths did little to assuage the sting of failure biting at Hiei's heels as he abandoned the dragon to its work and leapt for the portal._

 _Alone._

 _Without Nomi._

* * *

 _Kalanie was waiting, fierce, ready for a fight, her iron flowing over her skin like molten armor, but at the sight of him, she faltered. A pallor swept into her cheeks._

 _He recognized the moment Nomi's absence registered. Her eyes tightened. Her energy spiked. When she lunged for the closing portal, he was ready._

 _He stopped her._

 _Without hesitation, he trapped her against himself, keeping her from her brother._

 _And he knew the trust he was breaking. The promise he'd shattered—_

* * *

Hiei released her.

Groaning, he shoved himself backward until his spine thudded into the wall, smearing his blood across the white paint. "Top drawer," he spat through gritted teeth.

Kalanie struggled to come back to herself, still half-caught in the sensation of him, the heat of his body, the strength in his muscles. Finding herself again was like swimming against a riptide. "What?"

"Wrappings." He couldn't seem to focus on her, his eyelids fluttering closed seemingly against his will. Weakly, he jerked his chin toward his dresser. "Top drawer."

"Right. Of course." She lurched to her feet. Her body felt wrong. Too small. Too weak. The disorientation proved even more difficult to combat than it had the first time she'd glimpsed his mind, and it left her reeling as she stumbled to the bureau.

Forcing her hands to steady, she yanked open the drawer and revealed a neat stack of tunics, half-a-dozen curled belts, and a pile of dressings, complete with a bottle of alcohol for disinfectant. Still fumbling, her limbs awkward and ill-proportioned, she carried the bandages and booze back to the bed.

Distantly, she knew she should say something about what he'd shown her. Perhaps forgive him for not saving Nomi. After all, how could he have succeeded if Nomi wasn't even there to be saved? Better yet, she could apologize for accusing him of lying. She'd been out of line. Thoroughly unfair.

But an apology wouldn't come.

Focusing on his ragged shoulder, she said instead, "The wound needs to be washed. Can you make it to the bathroom?"

He forced one eye open. "What do you think?"

His tone rang with a bite she wasn't ready for. Her hackles rose in answer. "Don't be an asshole," she snapped, then swiveled and stalked from the room.

* * *

In the closest washroom, she dithered a moment, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror. The face staring back grounded her, reminded her who _she_ was, and with a final forceful push, she shook off the last lingering effects of Hiei's shared memories.

Pressing her lips into a grim line, she searched the cabinets until she found a shallow bowl, filled it with water, grabbed a towel from the rack, and hurried back to Hiei. He was as she'd left him, head rocked back against the wall, blood oozing from his shoulder injury, face leeched of color, sitting so still she might have thought him asleep if not for his left eye cracking open.

She joined him on the mattress, settling the bowl in the hollow of her crossed legs. "Sit up if you can."

A muscle flexed in his jaw, sweat beading along his brow, but he splayed a hand against the wall and leveraged himself upright. Exhaustion seemed to weigh on his every movement, turning him slow and sluggish. If she weren't quick, sleep might claim him by force.

With a flex of her energy, the iron along her pointer finger shifted, coalescing into a razor-sharp blade. Careful not to knick him, she slid it beneath his shirt and sliced clean through the cloth. The tunic caught in the ruined flesh above his collarbone and she had to work it loose with trembling fingers.

If her efforts pained him, he didn't show it. His face betrayed nothing as he watched her, his crimson gaze searing the crown of her head while she wet the towel. Gently, willing her own composure to remain as unfazed as his, she wiped down his chest, cleaning the blood that had begun to dry in streaks across his muscled frame. It ran in pink rivulets down his tanned skin, and she rushed to absorb it all before it stained his sheets.

Beneath the cover of her bangs, she snuck a peek at him. His eyes had become heavy lidded, though a nervous, fluttering creature trapped between her ribs insisted it was not exhaustion that gripped him now.

He caught her looking. The corner of his lip twitched into a smirk. "Carry on."

The low growl sent a burst of heat rushing through her veins. Setting the bowl on the floor, she rose on her knees and shifted behind him. Blood streaked down the hard planes of his back, but it seemed his chest had taken the brunt of the injury. "You should have been more careful."

"I was distracted."

"So you were." Discarding the towel, she twisted the cap from the alcohol and murmured, "This might sting."

"Hn. I'll be fine."

She was thankful she remained behind him, thoroughly out of view. Otherwise, he'd have seen the disbelief she couldn't keep from her eyes. Yet to his credit, he didn't so much as stiffen as she poured the alcohol over his injury and wound the bandages tightly into place.

"You know," she said, securing the wrappings with a metal clasp forged from her iron, "admitting pain isn't weakness. Pain keeps us alive. Tells us when we've erred."

A low rumble echoed through him, thrumming in the hand she still pressed to his back and sending a wave of bubbling nerves through her gut. Was he laughing?

"Compared to injuries I've been dealt before, this is nothing but a discomfort." He turned his head, catching her in the corner of his eye. "Using the dragon is what tired me. Not this."

The dragon.

She could still feel the sensation of its release, the sheer power it brought with it. More than anything she'd ever be capable of. It had been overwhelming, a sheer wave of energy and pain, pleasure and discord.

But more jarring still had been his feelings as he'd unleashed it. Rage at the puppets. Disgust at himself for being tricked. And something else, too. Something about her.

How exactly she fit in she couldn't quite work out. It was almost as though he'd used the dragon to avenge his own failings. As if because he hadn't found Nomi, he thought he owed her something else instead. As if destroying those puppets was an offering, a trade to hold her over until he rescued Nomi for real.

"Hiei."

"What?"

Her hand curled into a fist against his back. "Thank you. For trying. For fighting for him."

This time, the rumble in his chest was a snarl, not a laugh. "You owe me no thanks for today. That battle was a disgrace. We failed in all regards."

She didn't respond. Not right away.

Yes, they had failed. But he had tried. He'd wanted to save Nomi. That was more than anyone had done for her or Nomi in years. And it was worthy of thanks, even if he didn't want to hear them.

Sighing, she let her attention rove to his back. His flesh was a latticework of scars, a patchwork quilt of injuries from days gone by. The ruined tapestry of his skin told a story she couldn't properly fathom. All the reports she'd read, all the stories _he_ had hissed to her in the dark of night—none of them captured the fire demon properly. But these scars… Perhaps they did.

Thoughtlessly, she traced a finger down one of those white lines. It followed the ridge of his spine, and her fingertip ghosted across the knobs of bone, sliding over muscles, gliding along the scar's puckered line.

A shiver wracked through him.

She should have stopped then. Every logical facet of her being screamed that she should have stopped. Yet her finger continued to roam. When the first scar ended, she found another, tracking it up the curve of his ribs. After that, another. And another.

Barely daring to breathe, she ran her thumb over a raised stretch of tissue at the base of his spine. The sort of injury needed for such a scar to form seemed too much to bear. What sort of life had he lived—

He twisted without warning.

The hand that had been pressed to his lower back now found itself flush against his abs as he kneeled in the rumpled blankets, a smoldering heat burning in his eyes. "Careful," he said, his voice so quiet she might have imagined it.

A breath stuttered past her lips.

Fresh scars carved across his chest. A second tapestry to unravel.

Her hand rose of its own accord, her fingers sliding upward indiscriminately, no longer bound to any singular scar's path. Perhaps these scars were his chains. The ones he'd spoken of when she'd asked about Yukina.

As her fingertips grazed his collarbones, Hiei moved, surging into her with a force that pressed her back against the sheets. He planted his hands on either side of the pillow beneath her head and hovered over her. An emotion she couldn't name—or really, was too afraid to name—darkened his crimson eyes and set her heart clamoring against her breastbone. The heat of him consumed her, settling into her bones and lighting her aflame.

Before that heat, all else slid away. The terror that had plagued her for days. The fear that Nomi was lost to her for good. The uncertainty of how Taku had moved him without the detectives' knowledge. All forgotten, burned away beneath Hiei's fire.

Instinctually, she pressed closer to him, her hands sliding up the planes of his chest. A noise she could only define as a purr escaped him, but he remained stationary no matter how much she rose to meet him.

Hell, but she wanted more. More heat. More contact. More, more, more.

Finally, as her hands began to curl over his shoulders, he heaved a rattling breath and broke away from her, the haze clearing from his eyes. His knees, planted on either side of her hips, dug into the mattress as he sat back.

Staring up at him, she knew they'd crossed some sort of line—one she had no idea how to step back over. "Hiei…"

"I warned to be careful," he hissed, as much to himself as to her. Disgust coated the words, though if she didn't know better, she'd think it was aimed at himself, not her. Too quickly for her to protest, he blurred from the bed and dragged the door open. "Go. Now."

She raked a trembling hand through her mussed hair. "Hiei, wait. Whatever that was… Why did you—"

Another growl.

Her arms slipped about her middle as she rose from the bed. "You started that. Don't blame me."

He snorted, but his eyes would not meet hers. "You're mourning Nomi. Or really, you're avoiding thoughts of him at all. I won't be your distraction."

Her body still scorched with his heat. She wanted to protest, to deny his accusation, but a whisper in the dark corners of her mind wondered if perhaps he was right. Maybe all of this had been a means of denial.

After all, hadn't she thought that she needed something to keep her occupied?

She bent to gather the medical supplies scattered on the floor. "At least let me treat your arm. I cut you." She gestured toward the claw marks dug into his forearm, the aftereffects of her wild attempts to free herself when he'd held her back from the portal.

"I'll handle it."

"You need to rest. I can do this—"

"Go."

She went.

* * *

AN: Eep, eep, eep! I hope you all like this one! Let me know what you think! And thank you times a million to all my lovely reviewers. You guys make writing this story so much fun.


	15. Lying in Wait

A quiet fell over the shrine as Kalanie returned to her room. It seemed Botan and Yukina had finished healing the wounded, and they'd all hunkered down, sleeping off their exhaustion despite the noonday sun beating in through the windows. The calm left a panic bubbling inside her, clawing its way to the surface. In it rang the crushing truth, the reality that her last tenuous hope to rescue Nomi had gone up in smoke.

She was only too happy to pause in the kitchen doorway when Kuwabara called out to her.

"Hey, Kalanie! There you are." He offered her a tight smile and gestured guiltily to the bowl of ramen he'd been slurping down. "Calling on the dimension sword always leaves me starved. Need any lunch?"

Her hands hidden behind her back, she dug a nail into her palm, forcing her heartbeat to stay steady, keeping her breathing slow and even. "I'm all right. Thanks, though."

"You okay?"

"Fine."

"I'm sorry about your brother. We didn't want it to go like this." His dark eyes flicked toward the front yard. "Did the shrimp use his name? Out there, I mean? Nomi or something like that?"

She nodded.

He leaned back against the counter, bracing his elbows against the wooden surface. "I didn't realize you'd told us his name."

"I hadn't. Only Hiei."

She wanted out of here. Away from this conversation and anything to do with Hiei. She couldn't handle it. Not now. Not on top of everything else.

Kuwabara raised a brow. "You were with him right now, yeah?"

"Can we not do this?" She rocked onto her heels, tensed to bolt. "I can't. Please."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Sure thing." His uncertain smile faded. "Hey, look, I know you probably don't have it in you right now, but any chance you could take sentry duty for the afternoon? Jin was supposed to be out there today, except he's sort of down for the count, and I want to be around in case any of the guys need me."

Perfect. An excuse to flee the shrine. Exactly what she'd needed. "Of course."

He grinned. "Great. You just need to monitor the barrier. Around the tent camp, especially. I'll probably sense any intruders around here—"

"The encampment?" She crossed her arms. "I thought I wasn't supposed to head that way."

He rolled his eyes and shoved away from the counter, scooping up his bowl of ramen. "I told you that ages ago. Didn't you realize that doesn't matter now?"

No. She hadn't. Not at all.

"But why?"

Disbelief flashed in his eyes. "Are you seriously asking me that?" He returned his bowl to the counter with a clatter and crossed to her in handful of strides. His hands settled on her shoulders, squeezing firmly as he frowned at her, his brow knotted. "Because we trust you, Kalanie. Because you're one of us now. You have been since the train station." He raised a fist and shook it in front her face. "Remember the fist bump? I thought we'd covered this."

Sure. In theory. But that was before she'd lost all semblance of control in front of their entire team—attacking Hiei, accusing them of betraying her. After that, she didn't deserve their trust, and that was without considering the Binds that still marred her skin.

"But I'm one of them. I'm still his puppet. I could—"

"Kalanie, no. Stop it." He shook her, firm but gentle, the gesture entirely without malice. "Listen to me. Commit this to memory. _Trust is a choice_. And I've made it. We all have. Me, Urameshi, Genkai, Kurama. Hell, even Hiei. We _trust_ you, and we aren't changing our minds. So trust yourself, all right? And trust us. I think we've earned it."

She could barely stand to meet his gaze. The faith blazing in his eyes was boundless, leaving no room for doubt, no opportunity for misunderstanding.

"Say it," he said, a smile dancing at the edge of his lips. "If you trust us, say it."

"I trust you. All of you."

And, somehow, she did. Truly, she did.

Beaming, he released her and trotted back to his cooling ramen. "Good. Don't forget it this time. Anyway, I'll send someone out to relieve you of watch once I figure out who's up for it."

She swallowed down the knot in her throat. "No rush. I can handle it for awhile."

He slurped down a mouthful of noddles. "So you say, but no one should be stuck out there forever. If you sense any unknown energy signals approaching, just flare your energy and I'll be there in a second."

"Will do."

He shot her a thumbs up and she headed for the exit, but as she stepped out onto the sunlit porch he darted after her and called, "Oh, and Kalanie, next time you make out with the shrimp, try to hide it a little better, okay? Urameshi will never let you live it down otherwise."

"That's not what happened—"

He didn't listen. "Hey! There's no lying to me!"

His booming laughter rang in her ears for hours.

* * *

It took three days for the shrine to fall back into its regular rhythm. The men were battered, but more than that, they were shaken.

Over the years, the detectives had grown used to winning. Not always easily, but in the end, when they had to, they'd always won. The battle on the Plains of Peril hadn't been a victory. Far from it. They'd botched every objective they'd set for themselves. Not only had they failed to rescue Nomi, they also hadn't learned a stitch about Taku or his puppeteers.

The barrier fell again that night, nearly twelve hours after it had risen. What that meant, why it hadn't been synced to Nomi's presence in the bunker, not even Kurama could make sense of.

Still, life had to go on. Their resistance couldn't last without routine. The regular sentry patrols returned, but Genkai fit Kalanie into the rotation. Perimeter surveillance became the driving force in her days, the singular goal that was entirely hers.

In her free moments, she threw herself into the rest of the shrine's activities. For the first time, she joined their strategy meetings in full, listening in as Kurama outlined new reports from their allies in Demon Worlds and speaking up when she knew pieces they didn't. As always, her answers came in half-truths and stilted phrases, the compulsions that forever ruled her still hampering the full breadth of her usefulness.

Their training sessions at dawn became her morning wakeup call, and she grew to know the demons she'd once seen as mythic figures. Jin's quick tongue had her laughing in ways she could hardly remember while Chu's antics often left her speechless.

Now that she was paying attention, she recognized the bonds that held them all together. The crew of demons idolized Yusuke, always muttering amongst themselves about the day after all this was over when they would face him one-on-one, but it was Kurama they took their orders from. Foggy memories resurfaced of the reports she'd read about their time training together before the first Demon World Tournament, serving beneath Kurama in Yomi's army for a brief time. It seemed that old loyalty still held.

But through it all, no matter how ingrained in their routines she became, she remained always on the alert for Hiei.

Whatever it was that had transpired between them still baffled her, and she couldn't bring herself to confront it. Not properly. It brought with it too many questions. Why he'd reacted how he had. Why _she'd_ reacted to him so readily. Worse still, whether she'd been using him in the way he'd claimed. Yes, it had been a distraction, but that wasn't why she'd melted into him so completely. And she wasn't ready to examine the truth behind the heat that coiled within her whenever he was near.

She might _never_ be ready.

So she avoided him.

At meetings, she found cushions far from his. At meals, she ate in different rooms. At sparring sessions, she was always the first to find a partner—Touya, Jin, even Rinku, but never Hiei.

They could decimate her. Easily. Without hesitation. But she was getting better. Every day, she put up a bigger fight, pressing farther, lasting longer. Sometimes, when she pushed particularly hard, she even managed to control iron without direct contact—a feat she'd never dreamed possible.

At night, when she tumbled into her bed, exhausted from a day well spent, she imagined what her newfound power could do for her. She pictured _him_ and all the ways she could destroy him. For years, she'd hoped she might one day spit him upon an iron sword. That image had lived within her for months upon months, the only thing that kept her floating when even Nomi became hard to remember, but now it paled in comparison to ways she might end him.

Her new plans mimicked those of Yusuke's crew. A blast of iron hurled like the half-breed's spirit gun. An iron whip. A thousand iron needles inspired by Touya's shards of winter. Spinning iron gloves modeled after Jin's tornado fists. So many options. All brutal.

The dreams in which she used them were the sweetest of her life.

But as with all her dreams, it was not long before they turned into nightmares.

* * *

The barrier crackled against her palm, as firm and impenetrable as ever. An oversight, she was sure. If she asked, she had no doubt Kuwabara would be perfectly content to let her pass beyond its blue light.

But she didn't ask.

A part of her—the cowardly, pitiful part of her that expected this uneasy peace to fall—took a comfort in it. As long as the barrier remained, she couldn't leave this place. Not even if _he_ commanded her. Rather than her cage, it had become her shield. Her final line of defense.

And if the auras roving through the distant trees were anything to go by, she'd need it sooner than she could ever be ready for.

"It's a bunch of puppets. Nothing more," Genkai growled. Kalanie glanced at her sidelong. The old woman stood at her side, hands clasped behind her back, her sharp eyes tracking through the shadows dappled beneath the branches. "The boys will take care of it."

Perhaps. But Kalanie wasn't so sure. Because she recognized the feel of them, these puppets flitting along the edge of her awareness. They felt as Akio had, as Mazou did—though Kalanie had been too blind to realize it at first.

They were _his._

And they were here for her.

"You don't believe me," Genkai said. A note of amusement danced in the statement, as if it were Kalanie's nerves rather than Genkai's nonchalance that was out of place. "The dimwit could handle that many puppets in his sleep. They'll be back shortly, none the worse for wear."

Kalanie tore a bit of chapped skin from her lip. "And if the puppets aren't after your boys?"

Genkai snorted. "Implying what? That they're after you instead? Unlikely. Taku wouldn't waste his forces on you."

Taku wouldn't, but _he_ would.

Silence fell between them. Kalanie couldn't be sure what held her tongue. Fear? A compulsion? Some twisted combination of the two? Did it need a name if she had no intention to fight it?

The detectives returned not long after, emerging from the trees no different than they had departed, not so much as a stitch of clothing out of place.

Yusuke threaded his hands behind his head as he passed through the barrier. "Couldn't find them. Can sense the bastards sure as anything, but they're like ghosts out there."

Kurama nodded, though his focus flitted beyond the shield wall a moment longer before settling on Genkai. "Yusuke proposed waiting for the puppets to make a move on us here, and frankly, it may be our best course of action. There's no sense wasting our time searching for an enemy that doesn't want to be found."

A frown caught the corner of Genkai's lips. "Kalanie won't say it, but she believes these puppets are Masaru's. Here for her rather than all of you."

His name hit her like a blow. Would there ever come a day when it didn't make her flinch?

Judging by the way he shifted toward her, Hiei noticed her reaction, but she refused to acknowledge him. "They are _his_. I'm sure of it."

Yusuke clapped her heartily on the shoulder and leaned down to her eye level. "Maybe you're not used to this, but you're not the big fish in this pond. Even if these assholes are Masaru's, they're not going to be coming for you." He jabbed a thumb into his own chest. "They'll be after us. And we can handle them. No problem. Believe it!"

Beyond his shoulder, Kuwabara was pantomiming, pressing his knuckles together in a mockery of a fist bump. He mouthed something, and she caught the words _trust_ and _choice_.

Trust them.

Make the choice.

Oh, how she wished she could.

* * *

That night Kalanie went to Maz.

Standing in the doorway of Mazou's cell, she cleared her throat. The dark-skinned demon rolled over, her eyes fluttering open. "Nie?"

"He's here, Maz. Somewhere in the mountains."

Mazou's lips pressed thing. "Masaru? How can you know that?"

"I just do. I _do_."

Mazou sat up. She knotted her fingers in her lap. "Why are you telling me? There's nothing I can do from in here."

"You deserve to know." Iron skittered up Kalanie's arms, sliding over her shoulders, but she stamped down on it. She wouldn't hide behind its comfort. She couldn't. Burying her head and ignoring _him_ was how she'd get herself caught—and that couldn't happen. At any cost, that couldn't happen. "If he's after me— No. Not an _if_. I'm sure he's here for me. So if he captures me, I don't want him to get you, too. Not again."

"I don't think you get to decide that."

Fear fissured through her, so visceral she thought she might vomit right there in the doorway. "You're right, Maz. I don't. And I hate it. I hate _him._ "

"I know, Nie. I know."

* * *

She didn't turn on the light as she stumbled into her bedroom. In the darkness, she could pretend she wasn't falling apart. More than that, fumbling through the shadows required all her focus, keeping her attention from the puppets dancing at the edges of her senses. They were out there somewhere, wandering through the trees.

Their presence made her sick.

"You're sure it's him."

Iron spikes sprouted from her knuckles as she whirled to the bed. Squinting, she could just make out Hiei's outline. Calmly, as if he'd been there a thousand times before, he sat with his back against the wall, one leg stretched out before him, the other bent at the knee, his arm braced against his thigh.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He ignored her. "How do you know it's him? What's convinced you Masaru is here?"

She winced. "Don't say his name."

"Masaru," he said without a flicker of emotion, as if he were discussing the weather rather than naming her tormenter. "Stop hiding from him. Stop giving him power over you."

The laugh that tumbled unbidden from her lips rang hollow. "Giving him? I don't give him anything, Hiei. He just takes it. Whatever he wants. Whenever he wants. And yes, he's fucking out there. I told Yusuke he was in Human World _weeks_ ago. He's been coming for me since Maz. He's—"

"You knew he was in Human World?"

She bit her lip. It split beneath her teeth, blood welling against her tongue. "I saw him. When Mazou tried to teleport me. He was here. He _is_ here."

"Come."

"What?"

Even in the gloom, she spotted the flash of heat in his crimson eyes. "Come sit. Beside me."

She had half a mind to argue, to banish him from her room altogether. He had no place here. Nor any right to give her orders. But far more than any of that, she craved company. Anyone's might have done, but if she were honest with herself—truly honest—his was best. She wouldn't turn it away.

The mattress dipped as she crawled to his side and drew her knees to her chest. His heat washed over her, slipping beneath her skin and sinking into her bones.

"What happens when he commands you?"

She rested her head atop a knee. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and she studied him, trying to decipher the motive that had brought him here tonight. Whatever it was evaded her. "It's not… They aren't commands. Not like you're envisioning. He doesn't have to mean it like an order. Intention isn't necessary."

His jaw tightened. "Don't speak in riddles."

"Easier said than done. You're asking questions. That makes my answers _his_ secrets. And I can't talk about secrets."

For a beat, he said nothing. His aura flared, the heat emanating from him ratcheting up a notch. Only as he sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly through his nose did she realize he was striving for patience, fighting to stave off frustration—at her or at _him_ , she wasn't sure.

"Kurama has researched these Binds of yours thoroughly since you got here. He knows every secret they have to hide. We all do. But I want to hear it from _you_. So tell me."

She didn't let herself dwell on the truth in his words, if there was any at all. Think about it too long and a compulsion was bound to set in. "Then you should know a puppeteer's every word is law. Any declarative statement is utterly binding. You've used a dozen of them just now. _Come. Sit. Don't speak in riddles. Tell me._ If you were my puppeteer, every single one would compel me. You didn't mean them like commands. You weren't even thinking to control me, not in the way you seem to think _he'd_ need to, but it doesn't matter."

Now that she'd started talking, she couldn't stop. Truths she'd bottled up for years burst forth, desperate to be heard. "Yes, he's ordered me to do things. He's commanded me to kill humans. He's compelled me to fight my friends. He's made me hurt myself for no other reason than he was bored and needed a moment's entertainment. But none of that… Those aren't the things that matter. Controlling my body isn't controlling me. I know those choices aren't mine. I know those are contractions of my muscles and nothing more."

A knot rose in her throat, long-ignored torment turning her breathing ragged, but she swallowed it down and forged on. "It's the other commands—the ones that alter _me_ —that are horrible." Squeezing her eyes shut, she adopted a mockery of _his_ voice—that stupid, lilting tone that haunted her nightmares. " _Smile for me, Kal. Don't be sad, Kal. Tell me how much you want me, Kal._ "

A low growl thrummed in Hiei's chest. His shoulder bumped hers as he shifted. It scorched like unbridled fire.

Fighting off a sob, she buried her hands in her hair, pressing her nails deep into her scalp. "Hiei… Do you know what it is to feel emotions that aren't yours? To think thoughts someone else has planted within you? _That_ is where his power lies. I'm not the weakling you think I am for breaking beneath the chains he's shackled me with. I am not—"

His hands encircled her wrists. The blazing heat of them stole her breath away, but he was painstakingly gentle as he pulled her hands from her head.

She hardly dared look up. Tears gathered along her eyelashes, shameful in their weakness. Her vision was blurred too much to see him properly, but she felt him kneeling before her as his hands released her wrists and rose to her face. One blistering thumb traced across her jaw, catching a tear that had tumbled down her cheek.

"Enough," he said. The rumble of his voice vibrated through her, deep and powerful, yet utterly disarming. Her breath stuttered. "I've heard enough."

Of course he had.

Hell, how disgusted he must be, seeing her for what she truly was. Fractured. Broken. Always one moment away from coming apart at the seams.

Perhaps she'd had him fooled. Before tonight, maybe he'd believed in the hard edges she fought so hard to maintain. Maybe he'd fallen for the illusion that they were more than her shattered pieces, jagged and ill-formed.

But now…

Now, he knew the truth.

A growl brewed in his chest. "Stop. Whatever you're thinking. Stop."

An animalistic sort of terror fluttered at her ribs as she tore her gaze from his, but he didn't let her escape him. His thumb tipped her chin upward. For a second, she saw him—really and truly. Normally, he wore his ferocity like armor, keeping others at bay, always a moment away from snapping at them, but now that simmering rage had fallen away. In its stead, she saw a demon driven by the same crushing loneliness she'd faced since Nomi was taken from her, and she saw, too, what had begun to grow beside that emptiness—loyalty to the others in this shrine, an unwavering need to protect the sister who hardly knew him.

And last of all, she saw how he recognized those same feelings in her. What that meant, how it affected his view of her, she couldn't be sure.

But she knew what it had done to her.

A wild emotion had lit within his eyes, and they flickered like twin flames as he said, "If he is here for you, we will fight him. We will _beat_ him. He won't control you again. I swear it—"

"You swore to save my brother, too."

Maybe she shouldn't have said it, but he was so close, sliding beneath her guards, and a fluttering fear had taken root in her chest. There were lines she could not cross. Not now. Maybe not ever again. Certainly not without Nomi. And Hiei had already blurred that line so thoroughly. She couldn't let him continue to do so.

At her interruption, he stiffened.

Softly, she continued, "Promises don't mean anything, Hiei. Not when you can't keep them. And you can't promise this. No one can."

The truth of it hurt more than she could have imagined.

Suddenly exhausted, she pressed a hand against his chest. "It's late, and I have first watch. Go. Please."

He could have resisted—even if she were to fight with everything she had, she'd never move him against his will—but he rose without protest. Only he didn't make for the door. Instead, wordlessly, he crossed to the corner where she'd slept for days and sank down against the wall, extending his left leg and raising his right until he could brace his elbow against it.

She curled her hands into fists within her blankets. "You don't need to stay here—to sleep there. I can make it through the night."

His tongue flitted out to wet his lips. "Tell me to leave. If that's what you want, say the words."

"Hiei, you don't have—"

"Tell me to go."

She didn't.

He tilted his head the barest degree. A smirk curled his lips. "Hn. I thought as much."

* * *

AN: Sorry this one is coming a bit later in the day than usual! But I hope you all enjoy it as much you seem to have enjoyed last chapter! Your reviews were an absolute delight to receive (and they made it very, very hard to wait until Saturday to post). Can't wait to hear your thoughts on this one.

(Also, K, if you're reading this. You = best. *looks left* he he he *looks right* ho ho ho)


	16. Talk Less, Smile More

Kalanie woke to the door creaking open.

"Hiei?"

"Hn."

"Where are you going?"

The door clattered back shut. "To take your watch."

Rubbing at her bleary eyes, she sat up. "I'm more than capable of sentry duty, thank you very much."

He leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. "Are you? And what if Masaru shows up? Will you be able to fight him on your own?"

"I can't leave the barrier." Surprise registered on Hiei's face, and she added, "Yes, I thought you all might have forgotten that. It doesn't matter. I don't plan to leave anyway. And as long as I can't pass through the shield, then he can't get to me. Simple."

Not true.

If _he_ ordered her to come to him, she'd be compelled to. At any cost. She'd throw herself at the barrier until it killed her. Without hesitation.

But the false confidence steadied her. It was something to cling to, even when the world was crumbling around her.

"Liar."

"Hiei—"

In a blur, he crossed to the bed and seized her chin in one flaming hand. "I'm not an idiot. The buffoon's shield wall won't block his commands. He'd be able to control you however he pleased. Don't lie to me."

She tore free of his hold and surged to her feet. "Then what do you want from me, Hiei? You order me to _break my chains_ , but you block me at every turn. You interfered in my fight with Kuwabara because you didn't trust me. Fine. I asked that of you. For days, I've been trying to be _normal_ , to contribute to this damn resistance like everyone else, but I can feel you watching me. Every moment of every day. Always waiting for the moment when I'll fail."

Viciously, she slammed her palm against his chest. "And now he's back. He's here. For me—whether you bastards will believe it or not—and you want me to say his name, to break those stupid chains, but you won't let me try. Not in the ways that matter to me."

He grabbed her wrist, but she shook him off and stalked past him. "Back off, Hiei. I've had enough. You want someone to boss around? Good for fucking you, but it won't be me. I already have a master. I don't need another."

In the hallway, she nearly ran into Yukina.

"Good morning, Kalanie," the ice apparition said, a startled smile beginning to curl her lips, but the expression faltered, half-formed, as her focus slid to Kalanie's bedroom. "Oh, Hiei. I didn't realize… I mean, I didn't see you there."

Kalanie ignored the weight of Hiei's gaze boring between her shoulder blades. "Not your fault. He shouldn't be there to begin with." Raising her chin, she slipped past the small demon. "Have a nice day, Yukina."

"You have watch duty?" Yukina called after her. "You may want a coat. A storm's coming. Jin can sense it."

Kalanie raised a hand in acknowledgement, but didn't turn back. A storm?

 _Good._

Let it come.

* * *

The wind howled, whipping the rain into slanting lines. Far beyond the barrier's bubble, lightning forked through the sky, rolling booms of thunder echoing in its wake.

Kalanie stood in the midst of the gale, her hands balled into fists against the barrier's hard surface. The energy crackled and sparked against her, but the rain fell through it unimpeded, drenching her hair and soaking through her clothes.

She didn't care.

They were out there. The puppets. Roving. Tottering through the trees.

A taunt.

That much was clear as day.

She wanted to hunt them down, to kill them with her bare hands. It'd be a mercy—an end to their miserable, ruined lives. More than that, she wanted to find _him_.

It was time he died. It was time she was free of him at last.

He'd destroyed her life for six damn years. Even now, seemingly free, she was still ruled by him. She was as much a puppet dancing on his strings as the mindless beasts roaming the forest. And she was sick of it.

Because whatever had begun between her and Hiei… _He_ didn't get to muck it up. She didn't understand it. Not yet. And maybe nothing _would_ come of it. But if they could rescue Nomi, if there was some future after all this, then maybe Hiei stood on a path she wanted to explore. If that were the case, it was for her to decide, not _him_.

The way she'd lashed out at Hiei this morning—she wasn't supposed to be like that. She wasn't meant to be so broken that the only way she could feel things was if they sparked her heart with fear and terror and rage.

Snarling, she pounded a fist into the barrier. Iron sprouted from her knuckles, her glove fissuring into knife-sharp blades. Sparks flew as she lashed out, but they hissed out of existence instantly beneath the rain's onslaught.

"I know you're out there," she screamed. Her voice roared with the thunder, so loud the detectives might very well hear it back at the shrine. "I know you're there, asshole, so come and get me. I'm waiting. I've been waiting since Maz. Stop playing. If you want to win, show your damn face. Do you hear me, Masaru? Come here. I'm waiting!"

He didn't appear.

Not yet.

But he would. She knew he would.

* * *

"Chu will take your watch tonight."

"What?"

Movement in the kitchen stilled. At the sink, a bowl clattered from Botan's hands, and the ferry girl gasped into the sudden quiet.

Kurama set his dishes on the counter and turned to Kalanie, his expression perfectly placid. Unruffled. "I asked Chu to fill in for you tonight. It's already been settled."

Every damn eye in the room had fallen on her. She fought for calm. "I don't see why that's necessary. I'm more than capable—"

He held up a hand. "It's necessary because it's been two weeks since the first puppets appeared in the forest. I don't think you've slept properly since." He clasped her shoulder and squeezed gently. The smile on his lips claimed he was doing her a favor, but the steel in his eyes told a different story. It enraged her. "You'll serve us all better if you get some quality rest, so Chu will assume your shift."

"Kurama—"

"This isn't a discussion, Kalanie."

* * *

Her room was sweltering.

The walls felt as though they were closing in, threatening to crush her between them, and every circle she paced seemed smaller, shrinking and shrinking until she might as well have been spinning in place. Anger flickered like a flame within her, a torch that wouldn't go out.

 _He_ still hadn't come, and she was unraveling at the seams, falling apart quicker than she could put her pieces back together.

It was as though some fanatical god had set a countdown on her future. She could hear it ticking away, every beat of her heart counting down the seconds until _he_ stalked back into her life, but the god hadn't told her when he'd set his timer for. Today? Tomorrow? A month from now? A year?

She couldn't live like this. No one could. She was losing control—

Her door cracked open.

Hiei stood in the gap.

"What?" she growled. Her anger wasn't meant for him, but now that he'd appeared, all she could think was how much she hated the way he toyed with her. Condemning her for her Binds. Touching her with an intimacy she'd never expect from him. Swearing his false promises. Baffling her at every turn. "Come to control me?"

He remained in the doorway. Down the hallway, the others still milled about in the kitchen. The chatter of their voices drifted to her, too soft to be intelligible.

"Don't," Hiei said, his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Don't what?"

"Make me the enemy."

She scoffed. "I know who my enemies are. _Him_. The people holding my brother. The puppeteers. Trust me, you don't make the list."

His lips parted, though whether he'd intended to argue or insult her or something else entirely, she would never know, because a sudden flare of Chu's aura froze him where he stood. The demon's energy blazed like a beacon, hitting her like a physical thing despite emanating from the opposite end of the barrier's dome.

The signal.

For intruders.

Without a word, Hiei darted to her window, threw it open, and leapt into the gathering night. She followed half a step behind, trailing him as he sprinted across the compound, darting into the woods and cutting a path toward Chu.

The others weren't far. They closed on all sides. The rest of the detectives streaking out of the shrine. Touya and Rinku running from the east, returning from a trip into the forest to gather fresh herbs Genkai needed for medicine. Shishiwakamaru bolting in from a night spent answering questions in the tent camp.

They reached Chu in seconds.

He'd gone beyond the barrier. Puppets besieged him from all sides, throwing themselves against his might without a care for the ease with which he hurled them aside. His energy billowed around him, infused into every twisting kick and bone-shattering punch.

"Oy, Hiei, sheila, about time you showed up. Get out here and help a man fight—"

But Kalanie stopped listening. Her blood ran cold. Panic surged into her throat, so violently the dinner she'd eaten not an hour before nearly came back up.

 _No._

 _Not now._

 _Not like this._

She stumbled backward even as Hiei drew his katana and leapt into the fray, the blade an arcing silver blur. At her back, Yusuke skid to a halt. The thwack of flesh on flesh echoed in her ears as he pounded a fist into an open palm. "About damn time these bastards showed their faces. Let's do this!"

In a rush, they streamed past her, Yusuke's fists gleaming with energy, Kuwabara's spirit sword erupting in his hands, Kurama's rose whip unfurling. Combined with Chu and Hiei, they formed a veritable army—an unstoppable force—but they'd focused on the wrong enemy.

The wrong threat.

The puppets instead of _him_.

When he called to her, the old fog rose in a heartbeat, muddying her thoughts, sliding into place so thoroughly she wondered if it had ever left at all.

"Knife to your throat, Kal."

Her right hand rose, her iron glove coalescing into a dagger. It settled beneath her chin, directly over the drumming beat of her pulse.

She didn't resist it.

Some distant, pitiful part of her wanted to. It bucked against the insidious tendrils that seized her muscles, clawing and fighting, desperate to stay in control, but the Binds batted its efforts aside as if they were nothing.

Her left glove melted from her hand, dripping into the rotting leaves beneath her boots. Across her skin, the Sovereign Binds seemed somehow blacker than they had in months. Their darkness was so complete, so all encompassing, black as the abyss that was drawing her in, smothering her within its void.

"Say hello, Kal."

"Hello."

He stood beyond the edge of the fight, leaning against the barrier, watching her through its shimmering surface. As always, he was dressed as if for an elegant party. Charcoal slacks. A collared shirt in imperial purple. His brown hair was neatly tousled, gelled so finely into place one might not even realize gel had been used at all, but his face itself was plain. Narrow jaw. Overly sharp nose. Muddy irises.

He was no one important.

And yet, he was everything.

 _Masaru_.

"Stop fighting!"

The barked command rolled through the trees. Meant not for her, but for the puppets falling before the detectives like dominoes. As one, they went still.

It took a moment for reality to register with her allies. Yusuke struck another blow, knocking a puppet to its knees, but without so much as a grunt of pain, the demon rose and stood at ease, staring at the half-breed with unseeing eyes. "The hell?" Yusuke muttered, his hands falling to his sides.

One by one, the others faltered, too.

Kuwabara spotted Masaru first. He jabbed at finger toward him. "Puppeteer!"

It was Hiei who noticed her, still as a statue, the knife pressed to her jugular. His energy flared, a black shroud crackling across his arms. "Run, Kalanie!"

With a soft grin, Masaru shook his head. "Ah, I don't think so, Kal. Stay put."

She didn't move.

Yusuke crackled his knuckles. "So this is the asshole, huh? You're about to be a dead man, you bastard!"

"I don't believe I am. Kal, if any of them so much as take a step, kill yourself." His focus shifted to Kurama as the fox slipped a hand into his hair. Masaru rolled his eyes. "Pardon me, an amendment. If they make any attempt to attack me, even if they do so without moving, kill yourself. Immediately."

Yusuke hesitated. When he spoke, it was more question than declaration. "She'd never kill herself."

Masaru's chuckles tumbled through the silent clearing. "Would you like to test that theory?"

No. Don't test it.

 _Don't_.

They didn't. Not Yusuke or Kuwabara, standing back-to-back in a knot of puppets. Not Hiei, crouched in the branches of a tree. Not Kurama or Chu. Not Jin or Touya, still within the barrier's arc.

 _Thank you_.

But she couldn't say the words.

The fog was enveloping her, dulling her thoughts, smothering her emotions.

The knife…

Why had she put a knife to her throat? Why couldn't she move it? Why—

"Kalanie, don't listen to him!" Kuwabara's spirit sword flickered out. He shifted, preparing to walk, to cross the barrier and come for her.

The dagger sliced her skin. Blood ran hot and sticky down her throat.

"Stop, Kuwabara," Kurama warned. "Don't move."

The human froze.

He was upset. She could see it—the panic pinching around his eyes, the rapid rise and fall of his chest—but she couldn't work out why. Not properly.

"Come here."

She went. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath her boots as she ducked a branch and crossed to the barrier. There she halted, a mere foot from him.

"Through the barrier, Kal. Come on now."

"I can't."

He titled his head, a bemused smile lighting his features. Tossing her a wink, he turned to the detectives. "Have you been keeping her trapped here? Rather cruel of you, don't you think? Demons aren't meant to be caged. That's why the Fall happened to begin with."

"Listen, asshole," Yusuke said, "whatever game you're playing needs to stop. She's not going with you. If you run real fast, maybe you'll get away, but I'd get running if I were you. You'll need the head start. Hiei looks like he's planning to cut off your head."

 _Hiei_.

The fire demon's entire body seethed beneath a layer of energy. It licked across his skin like black fire, and where it touched the bark under his feet, the tree smoldered. His Jagan glowed purple on his forehead.

 _Don't use it, Hiei_. _Not on him._

 _Please._

"You really are the violent brute they say you are, hmm?" Masaru mused. Sighing softly, he straightened and rapped a knuckle against the barrier. "Right then, let her through this. Wouldn't want her to hurt herself trying, would you?"

"Not happening."

Masaru's jaw tightened. His smile dimmed. "Annoying lot, aren't they, Kal? We'll give them a moment to think it through, yeah? And catch up in the meantime."

She didn't answer.

He trailed a finger down the shield as if tracing the curve of her cheek. "I missed you, Kal. You missed me, too."

"I did."

"Then you won't leave me again."

"No."

"Smile, Kal." Not even looking at her, he smoothed a crease out of his sleeve. "You've never been happier."

Her lips curled of their own accord as a bubbling joy sparked in her veins. It brought a laugh tumbling from her mouth, though _why_ she was happy escaped her, dancing away on an unknowable wind.

A flaming aura seared across her consciousness, so unrelenting it knocked her breath away. For a moment, the fog faded. Her smile faltered.

 _Not this easily._

She clawed free of her muddled thoughts, fighting toward the surface, struggling to come up for a breath of air. Anger broke through the veil of happiness.

 _Nomi_. Masaru would know where they'd moved him. He'd know why Nomi hadn't been on the Plains of Peril. He had answers, and even if she couldn't escape him, she could pry those answers from him. Give them to the detectives.

For their sakes.

But more than that, for Nomi's.

"Where is he, Masaru?"

The demon's brow creased. "Come again?"

"Where is he? What did they do to him?"

"Who, Kal? I'd love to help you, but I'm afraid I'll need a name. Some specifics."

"You know who."

He rubbed his chin and leaned in close, all but pressing his forehead to the energy that divided them. "Do I?"

"My brother. The Shell. Where is he?" She slammed her free hand against the barrier. If not for its protection, she might have shattered his nose. "If you've killed him—"

"Now, don't be illogical. Of course, we haven't killed him. We need him. But I feared little Mazou had heard of our plans, so we moved up the time of his transfer. You see, we'd stored some of his power, like a backup generator of sorts. He was miles from the Plains of Peril when the barrier rose, though your friends here never could have known that. But he's safe. Of course, he's safe." With a self-satisfied bob of his head, he snapped his fingers at the detectives. "All right, let her out. Now. I'm growing bored."

"Do you have a hearing problem?" Yusuke asked, his fists white-knuckled with tension. "I said no."

"Do it or I tell Kal to kill herself."

"Not this again. Don't listen to him, Kalanie. Fight it off. We just need a second and he'll be dead. You'll be free in no time—"

"Urameshi, stop." She tracked the voice to Kuwabara. He stared back at her, his eyes bleak, his cheeks drained of color. "He told her _immediately_. She doesn't get to wait. Don't you see that? You're not blind. She'd holding a knife to her own throat. If that doesn't say it all, I don't know what does."

"Ah, Kazuma Kuwabara. The hero of humanity." Masaru pursed his lips. "Should have known you'd be the one to reason with. You've a heart of gold—or so all the human slaves are always saying. You know, originally, I thought you'd all be eager to give her up. I imagined you'd realize Kal is more trouble than she's worth. But I've been watching you all, and I see she's wormed her way in here. Odd, that." He cast her a wry smile, his eyes flashing with a mirth that turned her stomach. "But no matter. You control this barrier, so let her through."

"No way!" Yusuke ordered. "No fucking way."

In the branch above him, Hiei snarled, his energy whipping into a vortex, but it was Kurama who said, "Don't listen, Kuwabara. We can work this out. With time—"

She recognized the moment Masaru's patience snapped. The tether that held his temper in check split like a frayed rope, and he flicked his wrist at the puppet Yusuke had punched last. "You there, slit your throat."

The demon's eyes widened. Fear flashed across his face in the splintered moment before he raked a claw across his jugular. Blood burst forth in a torrent. A heartbeat later, the puppet crumpled and went still.

"Now, unless you want Kal to suffer the same fate, let her through this idiotic barrier. I won't ask again."

Kalanie hardly dared breathe.

When no one moved, Masaru swore. "Tell him to let you through."

"Kuwabara, please," she whispered. Not because of _him_. But because of Nomi. Because he was still out there, and he needed her. If she died here, who would save him? Who would fight for him?

Fear twisted within her as she raised her hand, her fingers curled in, and angled it toward Kuwabara, pressing it to the barrier. She prayed he understood—that he recognized the offered fist for what it was.

A fist bump. A promise that this was the right thing.

And a request to trust her. One more time.

"Sorry, guys," Kuwabara murmured, and as Yusuke began to curse, he added, "I've got to."

In the wake of his words, her hand passed through the shield, and a moment later, she stepped beyond it. Then _he_ was there, chuckling, pressing a long finger beneath her chin.

"The knife is awfully macabre. Soon as we're out of here, you'll need to drop it. Human World iron is so weak. But don't worry, I've got Demon World steel waiting for you."

She gritted her teeth. He was so close. One extension of her arm, one flick of her wrist, and she could bury the knife in his heart, but compulsions held her hand. The first ones he'd ever instilled in her. No harming him. Not in any capacity.

Still, she wouldn't go with him without a fight.

If she were quick, she might be able to act before the fog returned. She needed to lull him into complacency, just as the day she'd escaped.

"My arm is tired."

He snorted derisively. "Don't lie."

Her jaw clicked shut on her next words. An unsteady breath caught in her lungs. Instantly, the fog descended. Thoughts of resistance slipped away.

"All right, detectives, I need one more thing from you. Mazou. Where is she?"

"Not going to happen—"

"Perhaps it's you who's hard of hearing, Yusuke." Frowning, Masaru leveled his gaze on Kuwabara. "You've made the right choice once now. Do it again. Give me Mazou."

Kuwabara glared. "How? I'm not allowed to move, remember?"

Masaru threw back his head and laughed. The sound pealed into the trees, echoing back from the forest canopy. "Such wit. Right you are though. Send him instead." Kalanie didn't turn to track his finger, but when Kuwabara nodded, she felt Jin's energy flit away.

Minutes passed. No one spoke. The only disturbance in the stillness came from Masaru's foot, tapping an inane beat against a tree root.

When Jin returned, Mazou was with him.

No.

 _No._

Not her, too.

Beaming, Masaru clapped his hands. "I hope I don't need to tell you what happens if she can't get through your foolish barrier."

"No."

"Good. Come on then, Mazou. Get over here."

The demon's cheeks were ashen with terror, but she did as bidden, passing through the shield without a hitch. Still grinning, Masaru looped an arm through Kalanie's, then stuck out a hand for Mazou to hold.

Through the muddled haze, Kalanie felt Hiei. His tree had caught true fire now, but he paid the licking flames no mind, all his focus honed on her. She found his gaze—tried to call out to him. Tried to say she was sorry. Because of the chains. Or the collar? Or... _something_.

"Mazou, teleport us home."

His voice rang in her ears as the world flickered. The forest disappeared. Then returned. And again. It was fading, falling away, replaced with austere walls, bright lights. A fortress.

She caught one last glimpse of them, the heroes she'd thought might save her. They'd broken ranks, rushing through the trees. Hiei was a blur of black, a flash of red eyes, a streaking silver blade.

Then he was gone.

 _Too late._

* * *

AN: Don't kill me!

This chapter was planned from the very beginning. The moment Kalanie stepped into my head, so did this scene. I've never written a story as dark as Kalanie's, where at every turn the shadows just seem to grow darker. It's proven rather fun and all too addicting. But I hope it's not too dark to be enjoyable!

We got some answers here. Like why the barrier fell even though Nomi wasn't still present at the Plains of Peril. Also, I forgot to mention it last chapter, but now we know why Kalanie hates being called Kal—it's Masaru's petname for her.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys are a delight!


	17. Easier to Just Swim Down

The fortress materialized all at once, hard metal flooring emerging beneath Kalanie's feet, featureless steel walls forming on all sides. Iron everywhere. Her energy reacted as it had not in months, not since she'd last stood in Demon World. It drummed in her veins, burning through her, calling to the iron all around.

She didn't give in to its will.

Her Human World iron had remained behind, shed in those first moments as _he_ spoke to her. Through the haze, her instincts screamed for fresh metal, but something else resisted. Her heart? An emotion she couldn't lay name to?

Clucking his tongue, Masaru released Mazou's hand and withdrew his arm from Kalanie's, then straightened his sleeves until his cuffs fit perfectly around his wrists. "I don't know how you stayed in that wretched place for so long, Kal. Human World is so… drab." A smile split his lips. "Funny that. How the worlds fell to pieces over such a wretched place. I will never understand why demonkind's rulers stand beside humanity rather than revel in our victory."

They stood in a long corridor. The hall extended for ages to her right, finally terminating in a distant bank of windows. Through the glass, she could just make out the ruddy red of the night sky. To the left, an iron door waited, solid, without discernible markings.

Masaru leaned a shoulder against the steel. "Our suite, Kal. Time for a night's sleep, I'm thinking. Join me. But first, kill her. Slowly. Mazou, no teleporting."

Without a word more, he pressed a button on the doorframe and stepped beyond the threshold. The door hissed shut in his wake.

Which left her. And Mazou.

"Nie," Mazou whispered, her dark cheeks leeched of blood, "don't. Please don't." She wavered a moment, her hands raised pleadingly, her eyes searching Kalanie's as if waiting for a sign the unthinkable wasn't about to happen. Then she ran, bolting down the corridor, sprinting for the windows.

Kalanie didn't choose to follow.

She made no choice at all.

The fog had descended in full, and there was nothing left of Kalanie as she bent and pressed a hand to the steel floor. The iron reacted instantly, flowing up her arm, shifting into a sharp blade. When she gave chase, her legs moved of their own accord, her muscles pumping with ever increasing speed.

She caught Mazou thirty feet short of the windows.

Her blade rent the back of Mazou's knee, shredding tendons and muscle alike. The other demon collapsed. She curled inward, grabbing at her injury, but Kalanie didn't hesitate as her sword split into knives, a dozen sharp daggers that she imbedded into Mazou's back and dragged upwards.

The rest of it blurred, lost to the haze. There was the tang of copper in the air and on her tongue. There was blood dripping hot and wet down her arms, splattering her face. And there was screaming. Endless screaming.

It was that—Mazou's sobbing, broken cries as the life left her body—that reached Kalanie, sliding beneath the murky shield risen in her mind and digging deep claws into her consciousness, never to be forgotten. Those cries echoed in her ears, her bones, her heart.

They stayed with her as she left the corpse behind, iron sloughing from her skin. They stayed with her as she walked back down the hall, crossing over the missing stretch of flooring where she had stolen her steel. They stayed with her as _his_ door hissed open and she moved within.

In truth, they would stay with her forever.

* * *

Existence became a flimsy, uncertain thing. What was real? What wasn't?

She didn't know.

At times, she stood at _his_ side, watching him gather fresh puppets, binding them to his will, more puppets at once than should have been possible. Seas of hapless minions stretching beyond comprehension. Sometimes, she would move among those victims, culling those too weak to warrant _his_ effort, but usually he kept her close, his words sharp and pointed and always perfectly clear that she was to stay.

 _Stay._

 _Remain._

 _Don't move._

 _Don't leave._

A dozen ways to chain her in place.

Though why she'd leave she did not know. Her thoughts could never coalesce long enough to remember what existed beyond him and her place at his side.

Yet there were other moments—ephemeral, hard to grasp flashes—of a different world. A shrine tucked deep within a forest. A cache of iron different from that all around her now. A scattered force of fighters whose arms were bare of markings like hers.

Those fractured pieces didn't seem real. They weren't happening. But perhaps they _had_ happened. Or they would?

She could never be sure.

And always, every time she dared claw toward the surface, there was the screaming. The pleading. The sobs. The visceral, animal terror. Without fail, it sent her tumbling back. Into the darkness. Away from the body that was no longer hers. Away from _him_. Away from the flashing half-moments she couldn't decipher.

Eventually, she stopped trying to come back up.

* * *

But there was something out there. Calling to her. Needling her. Pressing at the deepest reaches of who she was. Insistent that she needed to _remember_.

But remember what?

Or was it who?

She didn't know. And maybe it wasn't anything. Not really. Maybe it was no more real than the false colors she saw painted on the backs of her eyelids when she lay in the dark.

After all, if there was a _who_ , wouldn't there also be a name?

* * *

– _Kalanie.–_

The word shattered through the darkness. It cut. Deep into the shadowed recesses where she had hidden. A knife formed of light and brightness. A dagger from _above_ , the far away surface she'd long since abandoned.

She shirked away from it.

But it came again.

– _Kalanie.–_

She shoved back, dove from its reach. Deeper below. Away.

Always away.

* * *

The fractured moments became harder to ignore.

Standing beside _him_. Tallying his puppets. _Three dozen_. Then counting those of his fellows, the others who created the markings. _Four score_. Nearly thirty puppets each. So many nameless faces, wiped of expression, marked in black.

Talking to him. Telling him about places she did not remember, people she did not know. Or did she? Who were they? The fiery one. Who was the fiery one? But when she tried to recall, _he_ batted it away. Forbad her to mention that one. Then punished her, forced her to kill and fight and hurt until she forgot the fiery one existed at all.

Then sitting at a banquet table, watching a beast of a demon on the high stage. He swept his hands wide, encompassing the puppeteers arrayed before him. His echoing voice spoke of fallen cities and upcoming conquests. It heralded victory. Absolute and final.

And at night, in the dark, the word came again.

– _Kalanie.–_

Fleeing proved useless. The word always found her, cleaving through the depths.

So she fought back. She summoned the screams and she shoved them at the word, building a wall between her and its bright edges. She showed it the blood. She made it smell the copper. She made it feel the flesh rending beneath her hands.

She forced it to see the body. The corpse.

The friend.

Murdered.

By her hands.

For a time, the word retreated. It let her be.

She did not miss it.

* * *

But the word came back. Brighter and stronger than before. And it was different now. It was the name she'd been unable to find, the one that needled at her long after she'd forsaken the surface.

– _Nomi.–_

A new flash came to her, rising in answer to the name.

A boy. A mop of corkscrew curls. Hazel eyes, bright with curiosity, shining with laughter. An over-sharp nose, upturned the barest degree at the end. A round chin.

Then the boy faded. A machine rose instead, a vast chamber flooded with molten iron. But he was there—the boy. Floating in the silver sea. Riddled with tubes.

She grabbed those images—the boy as he had been and as he had become—and she showed them to the word. It answered. – _Yes, Kalanie. Nomi. Your brother. Remember him. Remember you.–_

And she did.

* * *

She remembered Nomi in concrete, vivid detail.

The memory of the last time she'd seen him became her guiding light. He'd been trapped in the Shell, turned into nothing but a cog in _their_ machine. Recalling him that way shattered the shadows she'd cloaked herself in. In moments, she was rising, pushing to the distant surface, shoving aside the screams that still echoed in her bones even now, weeks after Mazou had fallen beneath her hands.

The room around her clicked into focus. It was dark, the curtains drawn over the windows to block out the moon, and the cot beneath her was overly soft, the blankets tangled about her legs. The footboard of a bed pressed against her right shoulder. Beyond it, she could hear _his_ quiet breathing as he slept.

For the first time in seemingly forever, she remembered her own name. _Kalanie_. With it came thoughts about _who_ she was—not the mindless creature that moved when _he_ told it to, but the girl beneath that. The sister. The fighter. Someone who had lived beneath the Binds for six years and still retained a piece of herself, a sliver of who'd she been once upon a time.

That precious piece had been her anchor. It kept her steady even as _his_ current tried to draw her out to sea.

But when he'd claimed her again, he'd unmoored her. She'd taken Mazou's life and she hadn't so much as tried to resist the impulse. The truth of that had corrupted her will. Even now, weeks later, with Nomi's name firmly in hand, the urge to fall back into the darkness was almost too much to resist.

Maz was gone.

Because of her.

As a sob worked into her throat, the voice came again. _–Nomi. Remember Nomi.–_

She recognized the tone, though she could not think of its owner. Rough. Smoky. A smoldering coal stoked back to flames. With it came new memories. Her existence in Human World. Living with the detectives. Fighting to figure out a way to get Nomi back.

Faces appeared. Boisterous, trusting Kuwabara. Sweet, gentle Yukina. Brash, dauntless Yusuke. A stream of others. Kurama. Genkai. Touya. Jin.

And another face. One she couldn't bring into focus.

– _Hiei.–_

The voice brought with it an image. A demon with pitch-black hair and crimson eyes. Vicious and fierce. All harsh lines and cutting angles.

But it was too sharp. Too rough.

She took the image and adjusted it, smoothing out the planes of his cheekbones, softening the line of his jaw. The new face was cunning and proud, but loyalty flickered at its edges, gleamed in the depths of its eyes. The line of its nose was like Yukina's, a near perfect replica.

When she showed the face to the voice, she could have sworn it started laughing.

– _Yes, Kalanie. Now, remember. All of it. And watch.–_

* * *

Watch what?

She didn't know—not really—but when _he_ rose from bed and readied for the day, she hurried to fulfill his commands before he needed to actually give them. It was easier that way. The fog was less thick when he wasn't speaking, and the quicker she acted, the less he needed to speak.

So she helped him dress, buttoning his shirt with fingers that hardly felt her own, and she followed him into the corridor. He was talking, but it was useless prattle, not commands. She didn't have to obey. She didn't even have to listen—

Except maybe she should.

Maybe this was what she was meant to watch.

"—Taku thinks it's time to make a final claim on Tourin. This is the moment, Kal. Once we have the half-breed's land, only Gandara remains in our way. Then we'll own it all."

Masaru stopped before the bank of windows at the hall's end. It had been long weeks since a corpse had cooled on this steel flooring, but Kalanie nearly dove into the dark rather than face the memories stirring within her. Only the drone of Masaru's voice kept her present.

"We'll be staying here," he drawled. "I argued for that. No need to dirty our hands in a bloody fight."

She peered out across the rolling landscape. Mountains rose in the distance, and a forest of trees crowned in orange leaves stretched all the way to the foothills. The Woods of War, on the northern border of what had once been Alaric.

Masaru rapped a knuckle against the glass. "The last attempt we made on Tourin ended in disaster. The half-breed's second-in-command caught wind of our plans, and he and the Jaganshi ruined our efforts. But that was before." A pleased smile danced on his lips. "This time tomorrow, Tourin's last stronghold will be besieged, and Taku's got the half-breed's allies so distracted in the Forest of Fools that they'll never reach Tourin before the fortress falls. What a time to be alive, Kal."

Chuckling, he turned from the windows. "Come. We've a busy day ahead of us."

The fog rose.

She went.

* * *

– _What did you see?–_ The voice found her in the midst of night, parting the haze and drawing her into the light.

For a beat, its question made no sense. She had seen what she'd always seen. The fortress's featureless walls. Puppets waiting in the courtyard—an army assembled. Their puppeteer masters toasting at a feast. Taku presiding over it all.

Uncertain, she showed those things to the voice.

– _Good. All good. We need more of this. More information. Kalanie, you must_ watch _. You must see everything they show you.–_

See everything.

Like the attack on Tourin.

She remembered, then, what the smoldering demon had shown her so long ago—how he had taken her into his mind and shown her things he had lived. Fumbling to frame it properly, she grabbed the memory of Masaru standing before the windows, staring toward Tourin in the far off distance, and she played it back for the voice.

Its response was instant. Visceral. Not words so much as feelings. Anger and determination burning like twin flames against her awareness.

Then the voice was gone and she was alone in the darkness.

* * *

"How is this possible? How could they have known?" Masaru stalked through the bedroom's sliding door just as dusk fell. His rage filled the room with a tension that raised the hair across Kalanie's arms.

After all, she knew what often came with his rage.

Standing at the window, waiting for him as she'd been bidden, Kalanie didn't turn. "What happened?"

His shoes clacked against the steel flooring as he crossed to her side. "The bastards were ready for us. Our army was decimated before it even reached the fortress's walls." Striking like a snake, so quick she couldn't even think to avoid him, he grabbed her chin. "Those damn detectives killed our people. Tell me you see how horrible that is."

"Of course. Disastrous."

But was it?

Who had died? Puppets? Puppeteers?

Was either such a shame?

He studied her, his eyes narrowed in calculation. Whatever he saw seemed enough to satisfy him. Releasing her chin, he righted the collar of his shirt and turned back for the door. "Stay here, Kal. I won't need your company tonight."

As the door hissed shut, she sank into an armchair beside the window and drew her knees to her chest. Her mind made slow work of what he'd said. Tourin hadn't fallen. The detectives had intervened. Somehow they had known.

As if she'd summoned it, the voice appeared. _–We owe you.–_

It had never visited her outside the dark of night. _He_ had always been mere feet away, asleep in his own bed just out of reach, but now he was gone. She was alone. So she whispered, "We?"

– _Tourin would have fallen today. If not for your warning.–_

But how? How had her warning been enough? "Who are you?"

– _You already know.–_

The words brought with them a simmering heat. It slid within her, filling the last of the shadowed crevices that once consumed her. She welcomed it, wholly and without reservation.

"Hiei."

– _Hn.–_

Wrapping her arms about her shins, she squeezed her eyes shut. "But how?"

– _Watch.–_

* * *

AN: You know, I tried to think of a million ways that Mazou didn't have to die here, but none of them were right. Masaru wants Kalanie broken, and what better way to ruin her than forcing her to kill someone she cares about. It was heartbreaking to write though.

But at least she's not entirely alone, right?

Also, this chapter title, 'Easier to Just Swim Down', is easily my favorite Hamilton line. Such a powerful, beautiful (in a terrible sort of way) way to capture grief. It moves me every time.

Let me know what you think! I always love hearing from you. Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter!


	18. Dying Is Easy, Living Is Harder

_As Kalanie began to flicker, the teleporter stealing her away, Hiei's control snapped. He leapt from the branch burning beneath him and drew his katana as he sprinted for her. Fast as lightning, he struck at Masaru, his blade cleaving downward, but it found only empty air._

 _They were gone._

 _He'd been too late._

 _At his back, the others were yelling. Yusuke had Kuwabara by the collar, screaming in his face about what an idiot he'd been, and Kurama had turned to Jin and Touya, ordering them to set up fresh patrols, to double-check the barrier's strength. Then he sent Chu for Genkai._

 _A numbing rage settled over Hiei like a second cloak. He shoved his katana back into its sheath and crossed to Yusuke, yanking the man's hand from Kuwabara's shirt. "Cease your noise."_

" _You've got to be kidding me, Hiei. Kuwabara sentenced her to die."_

" _Not true." Kuwabara crossed his arms. "She was already sentenced to that, Urameshi. Didn't you hear Masaru? Besides, she asked me to. She didn't want to kill herself, and we weren't the ones to decide that for her."_

" _She asked you?" Yusuke jabbed his finger into Kuwabara's forehead. "You losing mind? She didn't talk."_

 _Smacking Yusuke's hand away, Kuwabara rushed to defend himself, but Hiei didn't listen to his explanations. Their dithering didn't matter. He'd seen her ask it himself. That damned fist bump had read loud and clear._

 _The question was why._

 _What had she hoped to achieve?_

* * *

 _The fighting in Demon World worsened._

 _The armies of puppets had shifted again. The lowling apparitions had fallen into line, joining Taku's ranks of their own accord, which freed the puppeteers from controlling the plundering gangs. Their focus moved to stronger demons—B class and higher._

 _The strikes of their puppets were varied, ranging across Alaric's expansive territory. Though much of Demon World had succumbed to chaos after the Fall, no one had solid control of broad swathes of land. But the puppet armies changed that. New borders began to form as the puppets marched ever outward._

 _Before that onslaught, Yusuke rallied Demon World's last defense. He summoned Yomi to his aide, and for once, the former lord obliged. Yusuke called, too, on Raizen's old allies, the brazen bunch of bastards who had appeared for the Demon World Tournament and then retreated to their hidden existences. Hiei hadn't expected them to answer Yusuke's summons, but he'd been wrong._

 _They came._

 _Offense became the only path forward. For nearly two years, they'd attempted defense, holding their lands and not trying to push for more. It had been all they were capable of. But with fresh fighters on their side, their strategies shifted._

 _Those strategies left no room for a moment's rest, let alone time to plot the rescue of one mere girl. Hiei's days were blood and battle and death. He had no room for Kalanie._

 _And yet, inexplicably, she lingered._

* * *

" _Something's got to give." Yusuke pounded a hand against the floor. Around the meeting room, the assembled demons watched with tired eyes. Demon World's greatest fighters were crumbling. The puppets might be lesser in strength, but the puppeteers' ability to renew their forces day in and day out created odds that couldn't be beaten._

 _Even Hiei couldn't deny that._

 _Yusuke knew it, too._

" _You're not wrong," Kurama said. The fox was haggard; a lingering stomach injury had hampered him for two days. Yukina hadn't the energy left to heal something that wasn't life threatening. "But I'm afraid we have no avenues left. Our combined powers vastly outweigh theirs, but our numbers are stretched too few. We cannot hold every line."_

 _Seated on one of the room's cushions, so out of place beside Yusuke's woman, Yomi tilted his head and flicked an ear. "Kurama speaks true. The men I left in Gandara are failing. I will need to return there, and even I may not be able to stem the tide of battle."_

" _I know all that," Yusuke said. "We all know that. So how do we change it? What do we do?"_

 _It was Kuwabara who cleared his throat. "Maybe we take them down from the inside."_

" _What the hell are you talking about?"_

" _Kalanie's there, right?"_

 _Hiei stilled. Kuwabara had been thinking of her, too?_

 _Meeting Yusuke's glare unflinchingly, Kuwabara continued, "She's in that fortress outside the Woods of whatever… War? One of the ridiculous Demon World names. I can't keep them all straight. But that doesn't matter. Kalanie's there, and we can use her. She can help us."_

" _I'm guessing Masaru isn't going to let her step out to chat with us."_

" _Of course not. We wouldn't want her to leave. We want her there. Gathering information."_

 _Hiei watched the expressions flitting across Yusuke's face. Exasperation followed by uncertainty, then grudging hope. "I'm still not sure I get it."_

 _Kuwabara hesitated then looked to Kurama. "I've been thinking—about how Hiei couldn't see her mind. But that's because it's shielded behind Masaru's, right? So if Hiei went in_ through _Masaru's, could he get to Kalanie? To her thoughts, I mean. If he could, maybe she could tell us their plans, where their soldiers are going, maybe even where Project Shell was moved."_

 _A crease darkened Kurama's brow. "It is… possible."_

 _There was a moment's hesitation. No one dared to speak._

 _Then, his hand sliding to his katana, Hiei rose from his cushion. "Enough waiting," he growled. The same uncertain hope that had found Yusuke awoke in Hiei's chest. It was not such a horrid thing. "It'll be easier to find the wretch if I'm in Demon World. Open a portal. Let's begin."_

* * *

 _The Woods of War provided the perfect hideout. Within the rustling leaves, Hiei could remain hidden for days, and from the boughs of a tree, it was only too easy to access the minds of the puppeteers living within the fortress._

 _Whether Taku also hunkered there, Hiei could not ascertain. They still knew nothing of the demon's power—how to identify it or what he might be capable of—and the army housed within the stronghold's walls was too much for them to take on without information. Kurama had long ago determined the cost of a fight against this place would far outweigh the benefits._

 _All of which meant he knew he could not charge the fortress when he found Masaru, no matter how much the fiend's vile mind disgusted him. He wasn't here for Masaru, not truly._

 _He was here for_ her _._

 _And Kuwabara had been right. As the Jagan flared on his forehead, Hiei slid through the muck of Masaru's twisting thoughts. Hidden in his pitiful mind, Hiei discovered channels to the puppets bound to Masaru's will. Though he knew Kalanie's mind only vaguely, having acquired only the barest sense of her from the fleeting moments when he'd allowed her into his memories, his understanding was enough._

 _He found the channel to her and slipped within it, calling her name as he did._

–Kalanie.–

 _Her mind was broken. Shattered. She didn't answer to her name. Instead, she pulled farther from him, retreating before his touch. She fled so deep he could do nothing but call after her, unable to follow._

* * *

 _But he returned the next night._

 _And the night after that._

 _He spoke her name. Over and over. Reminding her who she was, trying to bring her within reach._

 _She fought him at every turn._

 _Frustration drove him onward, and he followed farther than he should have, all the way into her deepest recesses. When she could retreat no further, she lashed out, and he became her, living the moment in which she'd killed Mazou so vividly—so intensely—that he lost his connection to her entirely, bucked from her consciousness despite his Jagan's skill._

 _Her pain was so absolute that it had fractured her mind, and with it, she'd nearly broken Hiei's in turn._

 _Yet as he came back to himself, returning to his body sheltered deep in the Woods of War, he vowed Masaru would die. Not by his hand._

 _But by hers._

* * *

 _He changed strategies._

 _Her own identity had ruined her. Perhaps her brother's would put her back together._

–Nomi.–

 _At the name, something stirred in her. Her thoughts opened to his._

 _Hiei saw Nomi then, for the first time. The boy was Kalanie's near replica. Same nose. Same chin. Same eyes. Only the tightness of his curls differed from hers. A moment later, Kalanie showed him the Shell—the contraption that siphoned power from her brother and enabled the barrier's interruption._

 _She nearly broke again, thinking of Mazou dead at her feet, but he staved off the shadows, reminding her of Nomi, and as she surfaced, the rest of her memories followed, playing before him like a stuttering film. He caught flashes of her time at the shrine, brief impressions of how she viewed their ragtag band of fighters._

 _But his name evaded her. Carefully, he searched her scattered memories until he found the moment when Masaru forbade mention of him—of Hiei. That erasure enraged him._

 _It would not stand._

 _He reminded her of his name, then conjured his likeness and displayed it to her. A spark of recognition rippled through her consciousness in answer, but it was a moment before she responded in full. When she did, showing him a version of himself he had never before imagined, he realized he had won._

 _He'd awoken her._

 _And in the face of that Hiei—_ her _Hiei—who he did not properly know, he began to laugh._

* * *

 _When Kalanie showed him Taku's plans for Tourin, Hiei left Demon World for the first time since finding her._

 _The insights he brought to Human World gave them time, the few precious hours needed for Kuwabara to cleave open the worlds, withdraw their forces from skirmishes in the Forest of Fools, and dispatch them to Tourin instead. The battle that followed was bloody, as violent as Masaru had promised, but the puppeteer had miscalculated the fight's victor. He'd failed to account for Kalanie._

 _Once it was done, Hiei returned to her._

 _This time, she was waiting for him._

* * *

"You want me to stay here?" The whisper rang quiet through the empty bedroom. It brought with it a panic that hooked sharp claws into the most tender pieces of her soul, and though she strived to hold her voice steady, she couldn't keep it from trembling as she added, "I can't do that."

– _You have to.–_

She dug her fingers into her calves, suddenly cognizant of the armchair she sat in. Its supple leather was soft beneath her, comfortable and lavish. It made her skin crawl. "No. Hiei, I have to leave here. You need to help me—"

– _You will stay. For Nomi.–_

She shut her jaw on further protest.

Somehow, in showing her his memories, Hiei had managed to burn away much of the haze that had held her in its grip for days, and as always, he'd left behind the lingering feel of himself—the ghost of power she didn't possess, the differing length of his limbs—though how much of that was from his memories versus his continued presence in her mind, she couldn't be sure. Either way, tucked beneath the sensation him, she finally remembered what it was to be _Kalanie_ again rather than the shell she'd become.

It terrified her.

– _Stop.–_ Hiei's voice was firm, commanding but patient. The feel of him inside her mind was a foreign thing, like someone had stepped too closely into her personal bubble, yet there was a comfort to it, too. A certain steady heat she'd grown to associate with the odd, tension-riddled moments they'd shared so often in the mountain shrine.

Despite herself, her thoughts flicked back to the day Hiei had returned from the detectives' doomed battle on the Plains of Peril, injured and without Nomi. Then she recalled ending up in his bed, pinned beneath him, his closeness consuming her, overriding everything—

– _Don't get distracted.–_

The command was as stern as anything he'd said to her, yet in it she heard something else, too. Something—dare she think it—akin to a purr.

– _Enough. Focus.–_

"On what?" she hissed. "The fact you want me to stay here? Because you think I can get you information? I can't get you anything, Hiei. Once he comes back…" She choked off whatever she'd planned to say next. She couldn't bring herself to face it. Not yet. Not when she'd just gotten herself back.

Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. Speaking to an empty room felt so absurd, yet here she sat, barely clinging to sanity and talking to nothing but air. How Hiei thought she could accomplish anything useful was beyond her.

Frustration—Hiei's, not hers—spiked in her blood. _–I can hear your thoughts as long as you don't wall me out. You don't need to speak them aloud.–_

Well, hell if that wasn't invasive.

– _Listen to me. Masaru will return soon. Stop fighting and realize what you can help us do.–_

Like what? _He'd_ told her to stay here. She couldn't flee like she so desperately wished she could. Nor could she snoop about the fortress's halls, digging for whatever misbegotten hope Hiei thought might be out there. All she could do was sit and wait—for the fog's next descent, for the next command that tore her identity away, for the next torturous brand across her soul.

– _I can keep it at bay. This fog of yours.–_

What? How?

– _I will keep you tethered. You lose yourself because you_ want _to be lost, but no more. You cannot be so willfully weak. You're needed.–_

Then he'd better damn well tell her what to do.

His presence vibrated with what could only be the mental equivalent of a snort. _–You need to listen. Masaru believes he controls you. He tells you things—_ shows _you things—that could change this war. Pay attention to them.–_

She sucked in a steadying breath. _Pay attention._ Live in vivid detail every hellish breath she spent under _his_ control. Choose to be conscious of the deplorable acts he forced her to commit. Willfully watch herself kill people—innocents like Mazou, helpless souls caught in _his_ clutches.

– _I will be there.–_

A laugh stuttered from her lips. He said it so confidently. As if his mere presence could make her strong enough to bear it all.

As if anything could make her that strong.

– _Stop pitying yourself. Remember what you told me. Controlling your body isn't controlling you. Those choices aren't yours.–_ The sensation of his laughter rolled through the connection between them. _–In your own words, they're contractions of your muscles and nothing more.–_

That was before. _Before_ she killed Maz. When she'd been free. When months of freedom had dulled her memories of the fog his control brought. When she'd naively thought she might discover a way to best him.

– _Kalanie.–_

His tone was so somber. So serious.

It stopped her in her tracks.

– _You will fight back. We will.–_

 _We_.

She bit her lip, and though she did not have to, she spoke aloud, letting her voice break the room's silence, allowing her words to make this real. "Then how do we start?"

– _Pay attention to your surroundings. Learn this fortress. If I were to watch through Masaru, he might sense my presence. If he did, I can't guarantee he wouldn't manage to block me from his mind permanently, severing my connection to you. But I can observe through you. If we can map out their holdings, we can plan an assault.–_

An assault. If she wanted true freedom, that might be the way to get it.

She stood and turned to survey the bedroom. As with the rest of the stronghold, its walls and floors were welded from iron and bright fluorescent lights glared down from the ceiling, but there were Masaru's touches here too, the things he had done to transform this place into his own. Like the thick rug spread beneath the four-poster bed and her cot at its footboard. Like the armchairs by the window. Every personal detail was expensive, hand-crafted from finely made goods.

So vain.

– _Good. Keep watching. Study everything. Let me see it all.–_

Fine. She could do that.

– _Listen, too. Ask questions. We need to know where their new puppeteers are coming from. Fighting their armies is foolish. It gets us nowhere. But if we can cut their puppeteers off at the source, we stop the growth of their forces.–_

What good would that do? She thought distantly of the first time he'd shown her his memories, when she'd seen how Demon World had fallen apart, roving bands of fighters turning on the lords that once governed them. Those hadn't been puppets, not to start. Even without the puppeteers, those clans would continue to fight—

– _They won't. They've begun to turn on Taku already. The future he promised them is not what they thought it would be.–_ Scorn coated Hiei's thoughts, and his disgust wormed into her bones. _–While his puppeteers loom, they won't fight for us. Like cowards, they would rather cower and hide, saving themselves from the Sovereign Binds. But stop more puppeteers from rising and we might see a swell in our army.–_

She swiveled back to the window. As with the panes at the end of the hall, this glass looked out over the swaying trees that formed the Woods of War. Under the moon's light, the canopy looked red as blood.

Learn the fortress. Discover where Taku found his puppeteers. Huge tasks, both. Yet they were _something_ —a purpose.

– _There is one more piece.–_

She hardly dared breathe as she waited for him to continue.

– _We must find Nomi. None of this ends until the barrier returns. Your brother is key to that.–_

Nomi.

Nomi who had once been hidden beneath the Plains of Peril but had since gone missing, slipping through her fingers like smoke. She would never find him. Not through Masaru. He hated her love for her brother—hated that even after six years, she'd not chosen _him_ over Nomi.

Never mind that he was the sadistic beast who stole her life from her. Never mind that she would sooner see him dead than care for him in any way.

He wanted her to desire him. It was why he kept her so close. It was why he bid her to sleep at the foot of his bed. So that someday, she might choose to crawl beneath his sheets and lie with him. But she would never. Not as long as she had any sense of free will left to her. Not as long as he didn't compel it.

A scorching heat swelled in her chest, and she gasped as Hiei snarled. _–Never.–_

She pressed a hand over her racing heart. There was an animalistic sort of fervor in Hiei's thoughts, a breadth of feeling she could only liken to the territorial rage of a beast defending its land.

– _Look outside.–_

The intensity of his presence dimmed as she did as bidden. He was still there, hovering at the edge of her consciousness, but he kept his emotions carefully hidden from her, as if he'd built a wall between them.

She was about to question what was so important beyond the windows when a flash of movement at the forest's edge caught her eye. Her brows rose.

Hiei was there, standing on the branch of a tree, little more than a silhouette caught in a beam of moonlight. She could make out nothing of his features in detail, but there was no doubt it was him—even before he spoke.

– _I am here. I can't get you before you've learned what we need, but if he… forces you in_ that _way, then I will not hesitate. He will_ die. _–_

The last word brought with it a wave of anger so scorching it left her breathless.

The hand she'd held to her heart rose to her throat, and she dragged a trembling breath into her lungs. "Promise me, Hiei," she whispered. "Don't leave me here. I will stay, but I can't do it alone. Please…"

– _Hn.–_

"Promise."

– _Have I not just done so?–_ A mirthless laugh passed through their connection. _–But fine. If you must hear it exactly, then I promise. I am here, and I will not leave without you.–_

"Thank you."

This time, there was no denying the sound he sent to her was a self-satisfied purr.

Then, for a moment, he grew colder, more distant. When his presence returned in full, his thoughts were honed with deadly seriousness. _–Masaru is returning. Don't speak to me any longer, but don't push me out. I will stay, and you will hold off the fog. Understood?–_

Her nails bit into her palms.

She glared at her knuckles, scowling at the black whorls that stained her skin, declaring her _his_ property, marking her as something tainted—and she vowed to be free of them, not in some far off future, but soon. As soon as feasibly possible. With that promise echoing in her bones, she sank with painstaking care back into the armchair where Masaru had left her and crossed her legs at the ankles, staring blankly into the moonlit night.

In her mind's eye, she pictured Nomi, conjuring up every last detail of him committed in her memory. His curls. His eyes. The freckle ever so slightly off-center atop his nose.

She kept that image close as the door hissed open, announcing Masaru's return, and when he commanded her to rise, she did as bidden. But she was ready for the fog's assault, and she staved it off, clinging to Hiei's fiery presence, to the promise he had sworn her, using it to burn back the haze. So though her body obeyed _his_ commands, her mind remained hers, her thoughts as clear and focused as they had ever been.

Time to fight.

For Nomi.

And for herself, too.

* * *

AN: So we have a plan. A spy mission of sorts. And Hiei is in Kalanie's head, because apparently I couldn't avoid telepathy forever. That said, I am sort of playing with how a person would respond to someone within their head. Like is there really a need for concrete thoughts in answer? Since Hiei is listening to everything Kalanie thinks, there's no real need for her to formulate an answer; Hiei already knows what she might say.

Anyway, Saturday's update may come out late in the day. I'm attending the Women's March on Boston (oh how I wish I could be in DC), so I won't be able to get online until I'm home probably. Though maybe I'll update at midnight instead?

Thank you to all my reviewers! There was a whole bunch of new faces (or usernames? haha) last chapter. It was a delight to hear from everyone, both old and new.


	19. Look Around, Look Around

The stronghold's inner courtyard stank of sweat and piss and blood.

Beneath the sweltering sun, the hard-packed earth was baked like clay, but loose clouds of dust still puffed around Masaru's shoes as he stalked through the rows of puppets. Her chin tucked toward her chest, Kalanie followed in his wake.

She kept her expression carefully blank, hoping to convince an unobservant eye that she was as vacant and mindless as the puppets standing all around her, but in truth, whenever Masaru's attention focused elsewhere, she studied the courtyard. Tucked in the back of her mind, Hiei catalogued every facet she uncovered, half-formed thoughts flickering between them as he committed it all to memory.

For three days now, she had fought the fog, holding tight to her identity in the face of Masaru's careless commands. The detectives' surprise victory in Tourin had set the fortress on high alert, and Masaru had been too caught up in readying the gathered army for potential war to spare her undue attention.

The reprieve was much needed.

Not only had it given her a chance to fortify her mind against his compulsions, but it had also allowed her to adjust to Hiei's smoldering presence, to the way his thoughts and emotions danced at the edge of hers. He felt so strongly—anger, annoyance, frustration, all blazing together within him, always a moment away from bursting into scorching flame. It left her breathless, and if she weren't careful, if she forgot the line where she ended and he began, the unbridled pulse of his feelings could consume her, burning her up until nothing remained but ash.

– _Hn. Not likely.–_

What exactly he was protesting, she didn't try to work out.

Instead, as Masaru stopped beside a puppet and studied the demon's power readings, she snuck a surreptitious glance toward the courtyard's arched exit thirty yards to her left. Welded from gleaming steel, the arch stood at least twenty feet tall and wide enough across for five men to pass through at once.

A large exit, certainly, but not enough for the entirety of Taku's forces to move out at once. If the fortress were to come under attack, its defenders would hit a bottleneck beneath that arch.

– _Well spotted.–_

She gave no answer as she peeked back toward Masaru. He remained engrossed in the puppet's readouts, paying her no mind.

More staging ground than true courtyard, this enclosure seemed to serve as the gathering point for Taku's primary army. Here, his most trusted puppeteers—those like Masaru—had amassed their puppets over the weeks since her recapture, preparing for some great attack Kalanie had not yet unearthed in full.

Nor had she made sense of where the puppeteers were coming from. But she would. It was only a matter of time until Masaru revealed it to her. After all, just one day of mindfulness had been enough for her to realize he wasn't hiding his secrets from her.

It seemed he'd grown confident. When he'd first enslaved her, he'd guarded his secrets at every turn, but this time, he played no such games. After his victory at the shrine, he thought she was his. Forever.

It made him sloppy.

"Kal?"

"Yes."

Masaru tossed her one of his lazy smiles. Something about this morning had him in a decidedly cheerful mode.

It unnerved her.

"This brute here is one of our newest. Quite the find, isn't he?" He turned the energy reader's screen her way. On the display, a number flashed in bright lettering.

– _Upper B class.–_ A growl accompanied the thought, sending an inescapable tremor down her spine.

His lips twisting sidewise, Masaru tutted softly. "Answer when you're spoken to, Kal."

The compulsion claimed her tongue. "He's impressive."

"Reckon you could beat him?"

"I wouldn't think so."

Masaru cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he appraised her from head to toe. The only clothes he provided her were flimsy, girlish dresses, and her exposed skin crawled as he stepped closer. He trailed a long finger down her bare forearm. "I know the detectives ruined you, but why no more iron, Kal?"

The command he'd given kept her talking, but she fought to keep the truth hidden, at least in part. "I don't need to wear it when I'm so thoroughly surrounded."

And she hadn't wanted it touching her.

That had been a choice—feeble and cowardly though it was.

Before Hiei had dragged her back from the darkness, she'd run from her iron as surely as she ran from _him_. Without steel coating her skin, feeding her power and granting her strength, her mind became a frail thing. Stripped of iron, it had become all the more simple to lose herself, to retreat into her deepest corners, never intending to return.

Then Hiei had come, and it had all changed. Yet even still, she avoided iron.

– _Why?–_

Because she didn't deserve it. Not anymore. Iron gave her joy. It completed her, made her whole. But as long as Nomi remained in their clutches, she didn't warrant the happiness iron brought with it.

– _Stubborn.–_

So what if she was?

Masaru was still studying her. Drumming his fingers against his chin, he mused, "Iron fits you. Never thought I'd say this, but I rather miss it." With a flick of his wrist, he gestured for her to follow him. As they climbed the stairs and stepped into the stronghold's cool halls, he added, "Take some iron. From the walls, the floor, I don't care. Just take it, and wear it as you used to."

A swell of panic rose in her chest, bringing with it the smothering fog, but heat blazed in her bones, steadying her as she trailed her right hand along the wall—Hiei at work, no doubt.

Beneath her touch, the wall's iron paneling turned molten. It flowed up her hand, encasing first her fingers then her wrist and continuing higher stiller. Unlike the gloves she'd worn for months to hide the Binds, this iron roved past her forearm and encircled her upper arm, coating her bicep in a flexible carapace. Instantly, her power murmured to life.

As she'd told Masaru, the steel built into every inch of the fortress had been enough to keep the worst of her body's need for iron at bay over the last weeks, but now that it was touching her once more, she recognized the emptiness that had echoed within her, crying out for iron she refused to give it.

Only the lingering traces of Hiei's assistance against the fog enabled her to bottle up the sob caught in her throat.

"Much better. With that iron, you look the part." Chuckling, Masaru extended an arm to her. "Come now. Stay on your best behavior. We've a meeting with Taku."

Her heart skipped.

 _Taku_.

– _Hn. I heard.–_

She'd never met the demon up close. Her only contact with him were those blurry, half-forgotten feasts Masaru had dragged her to, when she had sat at the long tables and stared up at Nomi's tormenter, barely seeing him at all.

Masaru's arm through hers suddenly felt like a shackle. "I'm to accompany you?"

"He thinks he might have use for you."

For once, she was thankful for her groggy inability to connect with her own feelings while the Binds were at work. If not for the compulsions dampening her emotions, she'd never have kept her voice steady as she asked, "A use?"

He steered her into a corridor she'd never seen before then drew to a halt before the closed doors of an elevator. As they waited for the lift to arrive, he dipped his head toward hers. "You'll see, Kal. Oh so very soon."

Fear wracked through her, near painful in the intensity with which it turned her stomach, and not even a flare of Hiei's warmth was enough to fight it back.

The elevator dinged open.

"I hope you're ready, Kal. Greatness awaits."

* * *

The elevator deposited them in a carpeted hallway. Two quick left turns later, Masaru keyed a code into a sensor pad and watched the door before him slide into the wall.

Beyond waited a massive room, its elevated ceilings arching overhead. An entire wall was nothing but glass, overlooking the sprawl of the Woods of War. Somewhere out there, Hiei was hidden amongst the leaves, but somehow that knowledge didn't provide the comfort Kalanie imagined it was meant to.

– _Steady. Watch everything. No panicking.–_

Easy for him to say.

Banks of monitors ran along the wall to her right, all their screens displaying footage of the fortress's many corridors and rooms. A screen hung from the ceiling. On it, a map of Demon World was illuminated in golden light. Much like the one hung in Hiei's room at the shrine, dots marked encampments, though here it seemed black had been used for Taku's forces, green for the detectives'.

"You took too long, Masaru." Taku's voice boomed like thunder. The massive demon stood before the windows, staring out over the trees, but as Masaru guided Kalanie inside and the door whooshed closed, he turned.

At nearly seven feet tall, he dwarfed Kalanie easily, and his shoulders were broader than seemed proportionally possible, his frame thickly muscled, yet it wasn't brutish power that emanated from him. Rather he struck her as keenly intelligent—cunning and quick-witted.

"Sorry. I found a gem in our new puppets." Masaru swept a neat little bow, bending the slightest degree at the waist. The pressure of his arm forced Kalanie to dip in turn.

Taku's black gaze swept over her. "This is the one?"

"The very same."

Taku nodded, just once. A firm confirmation. "I see the Shell in her."

"The sibling resemblance is striking, isn't it?" Unwinding his arm from hers, Masaru pulled out a chair at a table set before the wall of monitors. As he settled into the seat, he smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve and righted the watch he wore on his left wrist. Without waiting for Taku to answer his question, Masaru asked, "Are we on track?"

Taku took his time answering. "What I'm to tell you cannot leave this room."

"Of course." Masaru laced his hands atop the table. "Kal, you'll never speak a word of what you're about to hear."

More secrets. More compulsions ruling her tongue.

Except he'd miscalculated.

The low burn of Hiei's laughter echoing in her thoughts raised the hair on her arms.

"Understood," she said.

Taku strolled closer, circling her as he spoke. "Our next class of puppeteers will finish their training in two weeks. Lito swears this bunch could rival even yours in their ability. Once they're ready for the field, we can increase our host by three hundred." Taku stopped before her and seized her chin in one large hand. "But you know all this. It's your plan after all."

A half-smile tilted Masaru's lips. "So it is."

"You're sure this one's strong enough? She seems nothing but her brother's shadow."

"She'll be enough." Masaru tossed her a wink. "Remember, Taku, we don't need the Shell's full strength. Just a piece of it will be enough."

What the hell were they talking about?

She couldn't make sense of it. The pieces seemed there, but she couldn't find the way they fit together no matter how hard she tried.

– _They're dancing around it. Patience.–_

Hell, that was rich coming from him.

"Where was Lito teaching this crew?"

The question drew her attention back to the men, and as Taku vanquished his grip on her chin, she followed his gaze to the map displayed overhead. "Back where it all began. The Forest of Fools. We've kept the detectives distracted in the north. They've left the west of the woods untouched. Lito is there."

Masaru pursed his lips. "So they'll need how long to reach us? A week?"

Wordlessly, Taku inclined his head. His thick crop of black curls bobbed with the motion.

"Then we have a month. Two weeks for their final training. One for travel. And another to harness their puppets. Will it be ready?"

Taku's gaze cut to her. "I intend to see if finished within the fortnight. Which leaves us two weeks to confirm its compatibility."

The way he studied her set her heart racing, her pulse bleating in her veins like a terrified creature. What was the _it_ they spoke of? Something to do with her. That much was clear. Why else compare her to Nomi? Why worry about her power?

But then…

No.

That couldn't be it.

Hiei's presence sharpened. – _Stop obscuring your thoughts. What have you realized?–_

 _No_.

They couldn't possibly be planning what she thought they were suggesting. There was no need. They had Nomi. They had the Shell. They didn't need _her_.

Taku's eyes narrowed. "You're sure you have her controlled?"

In a heartbeat, Masaru rose, his slacks whispering as he paced to his commander's side. "Certainly. To be frank, she's broken a bit too thoroughly. Haven't you, Kal?" Not expecting an answer, he dismissed her with a disappointed shake of his head. "She always used to fight, struggling at every turn, but I haven't seen that spark in her for weeks."

"Good. That's how they should be."

"Oh, but it's far more fun when they try to fight."

Hiei's growing irritation coursed through her. – _Ignore them. Tell me what you suspect. No more hiding it.–_

Frowning at Masaru, Taku snapped a hand toward Kalanie. "Prove she's capable of what you say. I won't have this attempt botched, not over your obsession with her. We've one shot at this, Masaru. I'd hope I don't need to clarify what happens if you're recklessness induces our failure."

Any trace of amusement drained from Masaru's narrow features. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, but before he spoke, he returned to his seat at the table and motioned for Taku to join him. Only once the demon had settled did Masaru return his attention to Kalanie.

"All right, Kal. Show us what you can do. Drain that iron on your arm."

No.

 _Please no._

But her energy didn't listen. As with the rest of her, it was trapped beneath the Sovereign Binds, ruled by Masaru, not by her.

No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't pull it back as her power surged through the iron wrapped around her bicep. Fresh energy gathered in her chest, bolstered by metal. Rust fissured across the steel until bit by bit it flaked to the floor, and all the while, her power levels rose, spiking higher and higher until she couldn't contain it any longer and it crackled across her skin.

As the last flakes of rust drifted to the floor, Masaru pointed to the iron panels beneath her feet. "Keep going."

She sank to her knees and splayed her hands against the steel. More energy leeched from the iron. It joined the net of power flickering around her, electrifying the air.

– _What is this to prove? Kalanie, what is he hoping to achieve?–_

She couldn't answer. The pulse of this newfound strength was too much. It flooded her thoughts with heady pleasure, overwhelming her senses with the sheer wealth of power she'd denied herself for weeks. She lived and died within the crush of all that energy.

In the end, only Masaru's voice was enough to pull her free.

"Seen enough?"

"For now."

A single laugh followed, cold as ice. Then, "Stop, Kal. No more."

She tore her hands from the floor panel. At her feet, a circle of rust extended in all directions, the iron corroded beneath her ravenous energy. The power she'd collected still writhed over her skin, so thick it warped and distorted her vision.

Her heart beat like a drum.

– _You swore not to wall me out. Talk to me, damn it.–_

But the world was spinning. This was too much power. She wasn't trained to handle it, and as she crumbled beneath it, the fog rushed back. It smothered her on all sides, dampening Hiei's ever-present fire.

He blazed back against it, hotter than she'd ever felt before. – _Fight, Kalanie. This power is yours. You're capable of it. Masaru commanded you to draw on that iron, but he can't make your body do something impossible.–_

True.

Her breath rattled past her lips, as ragged as her heartbeat, but she braced a steadying hand against the floor and pushed herself upright. Carefully, uncertain if she could even store it all, she called back the energy dancing across her skin. It slid within her, flooding hollow spaces she hadn't realized existed and purging away the lingering fog.

Hiei fell back before it, making space, and a thrum of satisfaction rippled through the tether that bound them together.

She was too flustered to make sense of what it meant.

All the while, Taku studied her, his elbow braced against the tabletop and his chin propped atop his knuckles. The dark void of his gaze sucked her in like a bottomless abyss. "She'll be enough for what we need. The detectives won't anticipate this."

Hiei's contentedness gave way to unease. – _Tell me what they're planning.–_

But she didn't need to.

Taku informed Hiei himself.

Seizing a remote from the table, the demon swapped the channel of a monitor that had been playing surveillance of the fortress. Gone was the corridor leading to Masaru's room. In its stead, they saw flickering footage of a laboratory. The place was sterile, nearly featureless but for a singular piece of equipment set in the room's center.

It was smaller than the one they'd put her in years ago, during the experiment's first test run. Smaller than the cage that held Nomi, leeching him of all his power. Smaller yet undeniably recognizable.

Another Project Shell.

Another machine meant to siphon energy. Combined with Taku's references to the detectives, it could mean only one thing.

He intended to destroy the barrier around the mountain shrine.

And Kalanie was his means to do it.

* * *

AN: Well, this is later than I intended, but today was amazing, and I'm so glad I participated. I hope you enjoy the chapter! Every time Kalanie thinks she has things under control, they tend to go awry, huh?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys rock!


	20. Cosigned to Oblivion

Kalanie needed to escape.

To run far from this hellish place and never return.

Taku planned to use her to ruin Genkai's shrine, disrupting the barrier that protected it with the energy a second Shell produced while Nomi's Shell kept the shield between the worlds down. The power she could generate wasn't enough to terminate the world barrier, but funneled through the Shell, it would suffice to destroy the wall Kuwabara and Genkai had built to protect their people.

But she _couldn't_ be a Shell. Her one brief experience inside Nomi's had nearly killed her. After Masaru had released her, she'd spent days recovering. The indescribable pain induced as the machine drew her power from her bones had been too much to bear. Not even Masaru's attempted compulsions had been enough to override her body's sheer exhaustion.

That agony was why she feared she'd failed Nomi, that she was too late to rescue him. How many months had he spent within the Shell, the very essence of him leeched away in a continuous cycle, day after day, hour after hour? If mere minutes had been enough to ruin her so thoroughly, was it even possible for the Nomi she loved to still exist within whatever remained of his body?

And now Taku intended to use her, too. To toss her in his machine, encase her in iron, and suck her dry.

She'd known Masaru wanted her, but she'd always thought it was for his own sick, twisted reasons—his driving need to break her once and for all. Perhaps it had been naïve of her not to realize the truth. After all, there were more barriers in existence than just the one that had divided Human World from the demon plane.

How willfully, foolishly blind she'd been.

So she wanted to bolt, to flee into Demon World's darkest expanses. Out there, she could forget all of this. The detectives. The Binds. The pain.

But she couldn't do that—not without Nomi.

– _We'll get you out.–_

She hardly heard Hiei.

Ever since he'd revealed the second Shell, Taku had been talking, prattling on and on. About what, Kalanie couldn't say. His voice droned in her ears without meaning. Panic was unraveling within her, quickening her breathing and manifesting in spastic twitches in her fingers, turning her deaf to everything but the pounding of her own heart.

If they put her in that machine…

She couldn't bear it.

She was so tired—so utterly and completely tired.

For six years, fear had ruled her life. It waited around every corner. The forms it took were numerous—new compulsions from Masaru, fresh nightmares about the deeds he'd forced her to commit, the never-ending reality that she'd let Nomi down in unfathomable ways—but inevitably it was there, lurking, ready to seize upon her vulnerabilities.

And now, at long last, its final victory loomed. If they placed her in that Shell, she'd never survive it. The fight wasn't left in her anymore.

– _Stop. I'll tell the others about this. We'll free you before you're ever near that machine.–_

No, they wouldn't.

There was no such thing as free. Not while Masaru lived. She saw that now. She should have seen it along.

The Fall hadn't just ended the worlds. It ended her life. Forever. There was no going back, no fixing any of it. Believing otherwise had been a nonsense dream, a last ditch effort to keep herself afloat. It had been hope where no hope existed.

She was tired of that, too.

– _We have four weeks. Have you heard nothing Taku said? That's a month before they're ready to use this new Shell. Even if you learn nothing else, we'll have you out before then. The oaf will insist on it.–_

The oaf. Kuwabara. Not Hiei himself. The distinction stung more than it should have.

A zing of heat shocked through her, its meaning indecipherable.

She wanted Masaru dead. Not soon. Not tomorrow. _Now_. His time among the living was up. It had to be, because if his wasn't, _hers_ was.

But she couldn't kill him. His compulsions still ruled her, staying her hand against violence, keeping him safe from her even when he slept mere feet away, vulnerable as a squalling, newborn child. No amount of willpower could override the commands he'd given her—even if it meant she died instead of him.

Which left her trapped.

Except it didn't have to.

Puppeteers didn't rule Hiei. He was out there, waiting in the Woods of War, as close at hand as any assassin could hope to be. If he wanted to, he could storm this fortress. Free her. Kill _him_. End all of it.

– _If I hurt him, you'll kill yourself—or did you forget what he ordered you to do at the shrine?–_

Oh but she hadn't. When Masaru had compelled her weeks ago, he'd been thinking of nothing but that moment. His orders had nothing to do with now. He'd cared only about that nightmarish day in the mountains when he tore away the tenuous scraps of life she'd begun to stitch together. Nothing more.

Certainly nothing that would stop Hiei from murdering him.

– _We don't know enough. You haven't learned what we need.–_

Like hell she hadn't.

She'd shown him every inch of the stronghold she could possibly reach. At that very damn moment, she stood within Taku's inner sanctuary, in his private suite, the one place where he might be caught vulnerable. There was no more—

– _Nomi. He's not here.–_

No.

He wasn't.

– _So where is he? Without that, this is nothing but a wasted opportunity. If you leave this place without learning where he is, his fate lies at your feet.–_

Didn't it already?

– _You'll have sentenced him to death. –_

That blow struck home.

Nomi couldn't die. Not because of her. Never because of her.

As Hiei's irritation scorched across her consciousness, she resigned herself to the crushing truth in his words. Masaru had to live. The information he revealed to her so carelessly was too precious, too vital, for Hiei to endanger it. She had to remain the detectives' eyes and ears—their window into Taku's operations—for as long as she could, right up until Masaru forced her into the Shell if need be. Whatever it took to learn where they'd hidden her brother. Whatever it took to ensure he wasn't trapped in the Shell for all eternity.

For that reason alone, Masaru would live.

But not forever.

Swiftly, with all the vividness she could muster, she crafted an image in her mind. One of blood and death and the last dying breath of a monster. One in which Hiei carved Masaru's heart from his chest with brutal slowness. An image of Masaru's corpse growing cold and still, all but bloodless at Hiei's feet, never to move again, never to speak again, never to _compel_ again.

Hiei's acknowledgement was slow in coming.

She'd expected a grudging promise or stubborn grunt. He gave her neither.

Instead, when at last his consciousness brushed against hers, it was not words that answered her, but an image of his own making. Once again, Masaru lay dying, his blood pooling around him, but it wasn't Hiei's black boot pinning his chest. Nor was the iron piercing Masaru's throat the Jaganshi's katana.

No.

They were not his.

They were _hers_.

* * *

Her days blurred together.

At dawn each morning, she rose and watched like a bystander to her own life as her body bent before Masaru's will. Clothing him. Conversing when he deemed it necessary. Eating every meal at his side.

The words that tumbled from her lips weren't hers. The laughs that bubbled in her throat rose at his behest. Even the emotions that swelled in her chest came at his command.

She saw and she heard. She watched and she listened. But she did not think. She did not process any of what Masaru revealed to her, laying out Taku's operation like the pieces of a chessboard. Deciphering the information she gathered was Hiei's task, not hers. For her part, she felt nothing beyond a bloodlust rooted deep in her bones that anchored her not in rage but in the cold, killing calm of battle.

This was a war.

One she would win. At any cost.

As one week bled into two, Hiei's presence within her grew muted. He was splitting his attention, moving between viewing her world and conveying what he learned to Kurama. All the while, his shadow remained hunkered somewhere in her mind, a silent observer to all that she showed him, but often his heat faded away to little more than the warmth of dying coals and he kept his over-sharp emotions veiled from her, hidden carefully away.

His absence cut her in ways she couldn't have anticipated.

And, despite everything, she missed him.

* * *

He came to her in a dream.

Or, at least, she thought it must be a dream. It certainly wasn't Masaru's bedroom, where she had seemingly just fallen into her cot. Nor was it _anywhere,_ really. Like some odd, in-between space, it had no easy name.

Around her, darkness stretched in all directions. Yet when Hiei appeared, she had no trouble seeing him. No gloom or shadows obscured his features. One moment, she was alone, standing in a sea of black, and the next, he existed, stalking closer, his expression inscrutable.

Her mind spun, desperately grappling with the strangeness of this place—with its many contradictions. There was no floor beneath Hiei's boots, and yet there was. There was no light with which to see him, and yet there was.

There was nothing, and yet there was everything.

"Are you real?" she asked, the words tumbling forward unbidden.

"Hn."

"That's not an answer."

"It's not a question worth answering."

Her hands balled into fists. "I asked it, not to waste my breath, but because I need to know. Are you real?"

He stopped just before her. His crimson eyes glittered in the non-light. "Of course I'm real."

Swallowing down a sudden tightness in her throat, she pressed a palm against his chest. He was firm. Solid. Hot as an exposed flame. If he were a product of her unconscious mind, he was a damn convincing fake. "Where are we? What is this place?"

"I needed to speak with you. Properly."

He paused as if anticipating further questions. Distantly, she realized that he hadn't answered those she'd already posed, but the thought barely registered. Her hand had captivated her—her slender fingers, her bony wrists, her pale skin.

Her pale, _unmarked_ skin.

Hiei's gaze flitted downward. An appreciative growl rumbled in his chest. With rough, calloused fingers, he lifted her hand. The pad of his thumb tracked across the creases of her palm. "So this is what you look like without chains."

"I don't understand," she said, breathless. "How is this possible? I didn't… He's not…"

He knocked the back of one knuckle against her forehead. "In here, the Binds cannot reach you. It's why your thoughts stay yours, even when Masaru controls your body or dictates your emotions."

She couldn't look away from her unmarred hand, still clutched firmly in his. "When did you become so knowledgeable about the intricacies of the Sovereign Binds?"

"Kurama hates to feel idle. While he waits for news from me—from us—he's been digging through the old woman's library, reading endlessly about the workings of a puppeteer's power."

 _Us._

He'd used that word again. Combining them both into a single entity.

Winged creatures erupted in her stomach.

"Then we _are_ in my dreams. Right now, I mean." It was more statement than question.

Hiei answered anyway. "Roughly speaking."

"Why?"

"Because I need to leave."

He said it so calmly. A mere statement of fact. There was no cushion to the words, no softness in his tone, no apology written in his harsh features. He was about to tear away the one anchor holding her steady against the tide and he didn't even have the remorse to be ashamed.

The darkness seemed suddenly more absolute. Before, she'd had the impression that she might walk in any direction and the ground would stay solid beneath her feet, as real as Hiei's chest had been beneath her hand. Now she wasn't so certain. It felt as if a cliff waited on all sides, ready to dump her into an abyss.

 _Leave_.

He was going to leave.

"You swore." She fought to keep her voice as level as his, clipping each word out with precise, measured care. "I told you I couldn't stay here alone, and you promised you wouldn't go without me. You remember that, don't you?"

A blip of unease tightened his lips. His gaze flicked away from hers, then returned, harder than before. "I'll come back."

"Where is it you're going?"

"The Forest of Fools." He dragged his thumbnail along the soft flesh where her fingers met her hand. He seemed preoccupied, his thoughts somewhere far from this dark, strange place. Then he said, "Yusuke believes we must defeat the puppeteers training in the forest before they begin to muster fresh forces or else we lose the war. Kurama concurs. My sword will be required for a victory."

She clenched her jaw. "So to be clear, you used me to get the information you needed, and now you're going to take it and bolt. Run off to your great battle and forget all about the informant you're abandoning."

"We cannot afford to lose this fight."

"But you can afford to lose me." She jerked her hand from his grip and lurched back a step. The shadows pressed in on all sides, but she could hardly bring herself to care. If he left, the fog would come. It was inevitable.

Hell, what an idiot she had been. He'd fed her lie after lie, promise after promise. First, that he wouldn't leave without her. Then, that they would save Nomi, that he mattered most of all. And last of all, that no matter what, she wouldn't end up in a Shell. She had believed him. Over and over.

Yet here he stood, forsaking her.

Of course he was. She should have seen it coming.

He was Hiei Jaganshi. Infamous swordsman. Cunning fighter. Ruthless heir of Alaric. Years ago, she had watched him stand upon a makeshift stage and gut one of her fellow puppets. Back then, she'd wished Hiei was executing her, not mindless old Xien. Maybe now, years too late, he was finally giving her what she'd wanted.

After all, she'd never survive the fog—let alone the Shell—without him.

"If you're going to go, then do it. You don't need my permission." She wrapped her arms around her stomach, her fingers tightening around her waist, digging into her ribs.

Hiei's expression remained indecipherable. "Don't make this something it isn't. If we lose this battle, the rest of it won't matter. Getting you out of here, freeing Nomi, that's all meaningless if their army is too strong to be overcome."

She scoffed. "The mighty spirit detectives aren't what the myths say they are. You're weak and you're scared and you're losing. I can't believe it's taken me this long to see that."

A muscle ticked at his temple. At last, his composure cracked. He lunged near—so close their chests would've touched if she dared breathe. "Enough pitying yourself. Stop hiding behind your fear and your weaknesses."

"I'm not hiding, Hiei. I've never been hiding." She slammed a palm against his chest, but he didn't so much as rock backward. The impassive tolerance in his eyes enraged her. "From the day Kurama and Kuwabara threw me in that pit of yours, I told you what I was. I told you that _he_ owned me. I told you I couldn't be trusted. I told you to release me and never look back. This is what I am. Broken. It's what I'll always be."

"Kalanie—"

"No. I'm not going to listen to you rationalize this. You don't get to tell me why you have to leave. You made your choice. Time to follow through."

He snarled, looking very much like he wanted to shake sense into her, but as his hands rose, she darted beyond his reach.

"Go fight your war, Hiei. I'll fight mine. Alone. Like I have been since they took my brother."

His stoic mask returned, his eyes turning aloof, schooled to utter calm. If her words hurt him, he didn't show it. "You can say it here."

"What?"

He raised a hand, his pointer finger curled so the knuckle protruded—a callback to when he'd knocked it against her forehead. "In here, you're free of the Binds. If you want to say his name, you can."

For a moment, she didn't believe him. It seemed so impossible. After so long, did she even remember _how_ to say it? But then, before she could over-think it further, it was tumbling from her lips, tripping across her tongue. "Nomi."

The sound knocked whatever remained of her strength from her bones. She crumpled, her knees colliding with the non-floor. A sob wracked through her, so broken and vulnerable and wretched.

In an instant, Hiei was crouched beside her. "You weren't meant to cry." Bewilderment echoed in the words, and when his hand found hers, his hot fingers slipping between her own, it seemed as much to ground himself as comfort her. "I thought you'd be happy to say it."

And she should have been, shouldn't she?

But no joy stirred in her. How could it? She hadn't found Nomi. At every turn, a new obstacle blocked her. Masaru's manipulations. Taku's intentions. Hiei's departure. Wherever Nomi was now, he remained beyond her reach.

In light of that, speaking his name was nothing but a trifle. A false victory.

"Leave," she whispered. "Please. Just go."

She'd only meant for him to give her space, to let her grieve in this dark, inexplicable place, but when her sobs at last stilled, she realized he'd gone, not just from her dreams, but from her mind entirely.

As sleep fell away and her body awakened, the fog was waiting.

And so, too, was Masaru.

* * *

"Dress," he ordered, and at once, her muscles moved to obey. Where she normally found the dress he'd picked for her to wear each day, he'd instead laid out a uniform in gunmetal gray. The fabric was coarse, rough against her skin as she tugged on the pants and shrugged into the tunic.

Masaru's own usual finery was missing, too. Rather than his typical collared shirt, he wore a mundane, brown jacket snug about his shoulders. His dress shoes had been swapped for sturdy boots.

Lacing a matching pair onto her own feet, she fought back against the gathering haze. Without Hiei, she lacked the fire to force it back, but as she had done before her escape many months ago, she began to build a wall around herself. Brick by brick, she shielded her thoughts against the fog. It wouldn't last, not forever. Over time, Masaru's power would corrode her strength, eating away at her resilience until her wall crumbled away to dust.

But it would do for now.

"Are we traveling somewhere?" she asked.

"We are." He strode for the door, waving lazily for her to follow. "Come, Kal. We've a long day's run ahead of us. I hope you're in shape. We'll need to be quick."

"Of course."

"No leaving me, Kal. Remember that." As they stepped into the hall and the door hissed shut behind them, he seized her bicep in a crushing grip. Annoyance glimmered in his eyes, though at what she couldn't say. "Don't attempt to escape. Don't become falsely separated from me. Don't attack our guards. Best behavior only, Kal."

The compulsions settled dully into her bones, sliding insidious fingers into her muscles. There'd be no running. That much was clear. "Understood."

"Good. Now let's move. We're expected by sundown."

They ran for hours, from dawn until dusk, the pace Masaru set so unrelenting that only his compulsions kept Kalanie on her feet.

Their path wove east into the Woods of War, and through the burn of her exhausted muscles, Kalanie tried to determine where Masaru was taking her. In her mind's eye, she pictured the map tacked up in Hiei's bedroom, envisioning all those pins stuck across its surface. Unless her memory was failing her, their route ran directly opposite the one Hiei must have taken when he'd left her in the night. The Forest of Fools lay behind them, its massive expanse waiting on the far side of the Plains of Peril.

Whatever Masaru had in store for her, she would face it alone.

She harbored no illusions to the contrary.

As twilight descended, a clearing opened ahead, and the party of ten that she'd run with all day finally slowed. Through the orange foliage, a squat building materialized, the very last of the sunlight gleaming off its metal walls. It ran low to the ground, one singular story. Nothing about the place denoted it as anything important.

Yet she could feel it. _Iron_.

It was everywhere, humming through the earth beneath her feet, calling to her as strongly as the cache beneath Genkai's mountain shrine ever had.

And she knew.

What this place was. What waited inside. _Who_ waited inside.

Her emotions dulled, the fear and unease that had haunted her all day falling away, dimming as if someone had swept them beneath a rug. In their place, her thoughts sharpened, turning pointed and calculating.

She took in every detail of this place. They'd passed guards in the trees, but they all faced outward, watching for incoming threats, not paying attention to those within, and the forest provided decent cover. If one could get beyond the clearing, it would be easy to lose pursuers in the woods.

Of course, to get that far, an escape would be needed.

And she wasn't allowed escape.

At a word from Masaru, the rest of their company—all puppets like her—fanned out into the trees, bolstering the perimeter guard already keeping watch, but _he_ curled a hand around her elbow and propelled her toward the building. "Our timeline was moved up," he said as he shouldered the door open and steered her over the threshold.

She didn't need to ask him what timeline—not once she saw the room waiting for her.

She'd seen it before. Sterile. Featureless. All polished metal and shining floors. The new Shell was waiting directly ahead, a massive glass tank, empty now but calling her name. Promising a hell she refused to accept.

But her focus didn't stay on that Shell for long.

When Taku had put on the video feed of this place, she'd thought the Shell destined for her was the only one located here. Now she saw the truth—the reality the camera angle had concealed before. A second Shell. Much larger. Its glass chamber filled with molten iron—and a body.

A frail, intubated body.

His mop of dark curls was limp. His eyes were shuttered closed. His skin was paler than she had ever seen it, stretched paper thin across cheeks gone gaunt with malnutrition. Nothing about him resembled the boy she once knew.

But it didn't matter.

She'd know him anywhere. Always.

 _Nomi_.

* * *

AN: We're closing in on this story's end game! At long last, Nomi is making an actual physical appearance, which means answers for many of the questions you all have been asking are not far off now! It's a shame Hiei upped and left her though...

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I cannot believe this story is almost to 100 reviews. It has been an absolutely joy hearing from you all. I hope you enjoy this one, too!


	21. When the Night Gets Dark

With a sharp jerk, Kalanie tore free of Masaru's grip. Her boots clacked against the polished floor as she lurched into a sprint, racing for Nomi's Shell.

Iron pulsed on every horizon of her senses, nearly overwhelming in its volume, and she seized that strength, readying to throw any steel she could get her hands on directly at the machine. She could shatter it, break Nomi free, tear him from this hellscape—

"Oh, I don't think so, Kal. Freeze."

Her legs locked up, but the force of her momentum carried her torso forward even as her feet stopped answering. It sent her tumbling to the floor, and she shoved out her palms just in time to stop her chin from cracking against the tile.

Anger pulsed like a second heartbeat in her veins as she struggled to her knees. His compulsion grated against her every movement, but she batted it away. He'd meant her to stop running, not for her to be entirely motionless. She could move. She _would_ move.

And she could still use her iron. She didn't need to run for that.

Her memory flitted back to her training sessions alongside the detectives and their allies. More than once, she'd managed to control iron without physical contact. It wasn't an impossibility. Not after all they'd taught her.

With that in mind, she gritted her teeth and threw her power at Nomi's tank. Trapped behind a layer of glass, the iron pooled around him was slow to respond. Stubbornly, she pushed harder, focusing every drop of energy she'd accumulated into the act of calling on that metal.

Still, it didn't answer.

A snarl wrenched from her throat. She crawled forward. A foot. Then two. The weight of _his_ compulsion was like hundreds of pounds bearing down on her shoulders, but in the end, it wasn't his words that stopped her but Masaru himself.

His strides languid and relaxed, he stalked in front of her and bent until his eyes met hers. "Hello, Kalanie. Woken up at last, I see. I'd almost begun to think I'd imagined your rebellious spirit." He chuckled, sick pleasure glinting in his eyes. "I missed you."

She ignored him. At last, her power had brushed against the iron floating in Nomi's tank, and she struggled desperately to sink her control into the molten metal, seizing it like a beast grappling prey with sharp claws. It flowed sluggishly in answer, lapping against the edge of the tank, but try though she might, proper manipulation evaded her.

The iron remained out of reach.

She couldn't break Nomi out.

"Stop fighting."

As if he'd flicked a switch, her energy dissipated.

Shaking his head, seemingly disappointed in her, Masaru settled on the floor. Careful not to wrinkle his pants, he crossed his legs into a neat pretzel and rested his hands atop his knees. Then he watched her, his smile innocuous, his eyes lit with mirth, looking for all the world as if this were a perfectly normal conversation—as if he weren't her tormentor, her brother's captor, her most vile adversary.

"If you have questions, Kal, now's the time to ask them."

"I'll kill you," she hissed. "For what you've done to him, I'll kill you—"

"No. You won't."

Still hunched on her knees, her palms pressed flat against the tile floor, she spat at him. Her spittle splattered across his cheeks. A grimace twitched onto his lips as he dragged a sleeve across his chin, but his temper remained unchanged—still perfectly idle, entirely at ease.

"I _will_ kill you," she vowed, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "I will make you wish you never found us. Not me. Not my brother. You'll wish the Fall never happened. You'll wish you never came looking for puppets in the Forest of Fools. It will be the most glorious thing I've ever done. It will—"

"These aren't questions, Kal."

"I have no questions for you."

He clucked his tongue. "You and I both know that's not true."

And truth be told, he was right.

She hated him. She wanted him dead. Nothing he said would ever change that. But that didn't mean answers weren't in order.

For a moment, her gaze flicked to Nomi. Hell, she had so many things to say to him, so many apologies to make, so many requests for forgiveness. More than that, she wanted him to know how much she loved him, that she would love him until her last wretched day amongst the living. And beyond it, too. She would love him as her soul waited for processing in Spirit World. She would love him as Koenma ruled on her fate and dictated the punishment befitting her crimes these last years. And she would love him throughout whatever came after, in the great beyond that waited after a soul's time ended in the three worlds.

But she couldn't tell him any of that. Not while he was in the Shell. In there, he was lost to her. Perhaps he was even lost to himself.

Masaru sighed. "You're running out of time, Kal."

Curling her hands into tight fists, she rocked backward until her butt hit the floor. "Why? What fresh hell is on the horizon?"

Masaru's laughter echoed off the empty walls. "Have I said how much I missed you? This real you, I mean. These last weeks of your company have been terribly lonely."

"You told me to ask questions," she snapped. "Answer them."

He rolled his eyes, but complied. "Taku is on his way. He expects the new Shell to be operational by the time he arrives. Meaning your Shell, Kal."

"Because your timeline changed?"

"Correct." With a pleased grin—as if she'd at last seen the light and was behaving rationally—he continued, "We'd intended to hold off on your installation until our fresh troops arrived; however, Yusuke Urameshi and his band of demon traitors changed our plans. A few hours before dawn, they launched an attack on our training compound in the Forest of Fools. Inconvenient, as you might imagine, but it's created a unique opportunity."

He paused deliberately, waiting until she prompted him to explain further. "An opportunity for what?"

"To attack that dismal shrine they call home. You see, they've left it undefended. How they learned about our training center I can't say, but in their haste to destroy it, they've left themselves vulnerable."

A knot of anxiety gathered in Kalanie's gut—the first emotion that had gripped her since they arrived at this hidden lab. Had the detectives truly been so foolish? So blind?

She fought to keep her voice even as a lie formulated on her tongue. "You think you can attack the shrine without your full strength? They won't have left it defenseless. Those left behind will—"

"Die. They will die, and it won't be a contest. Once you get us past their barrier, they'll have no means to protect the weakling humans they've penned in like sheep for a slaughter." He wet his lips, his eyes narrowing a hair's breadth. "Perhaps we owe them our thanks, to be truthful. After all, they've gathered every human psychic for miles in one place. A weak bunch, but an annoyance nonetheless. Wiping them from the worlds will be a favor to all demonkind."

"You're wrong."

"I'm not. Why don't you see it, Kal? Demons like us deserve to rule these worlds. Not Spirit World goons. Nor Human World maggots. We are stronger than them. We are bolder. Braver. I wish you wouldn't fight our destiny."

No.

None of that was true.

Kuwabara rose in her memory. So vibrantly alive. So staunchly loyal and unwaveringly fierce. He was living proof of what humanity could be. Just as Yusuke and Kurama were evidence of the ways humanity and demonkind could coexist. A half-breed. A demon soul living alongside a human's, sharing a single body. Ten years ago, they would have seemed as farfetched as any grand myth.

But they weren't.

The detectives were proof of life as it could be—as it _should_ be.

Maybe the barrier between worlds was necessary to protect that way of life. Or maybe it wasn't. Either way, Taku and Masaru's intentions were wrong. Crushing humanity beneath the collective brutality of demonkind wasn't a future she would ever be a part of. Not by choice.

Perhaps she should have been afraid, sitting there, ten feet from the Shell created to steal away her strength and another ten feet from the machine that had ravaged Nomi for nearly two years, stripping away his life and strength and vibrancy until he was nothing but the husk floating before her now. Perhaps all of that should have awoken fear.

Yet it didn't.

She felt only a sense of sudden clarity. This was her moment. Her final stand. If she could outwit Masaru, Nomi might have a future—even if it didn't include her. If she failed, she was destined for the Shell. There were no other options, no shades of gray. A fork waited on her path into the future, and now was her chance to decide which route suited her.

It wasn't really a choice.

"Do you realize he's dying?"

A crease darkened Masaru's brow. "The first Shell, you mean?"

"My _brother_. He's not a machine. He's not the Shell. He's my brother. And yes, him. He's dying in there. Surely Taku hasn't missed that key detail in his grand schemes?"

"No, he hasn't."

She kept her voice impassive, channeling the even steadiness that marked Hiei's patterns of speech. "That doesn't worry you? If he dies, how will you keep the barrier down?"

"Simple," Masaru said. "You."

Her mask nearly cracked, but she staved off the rush of unease roiling in her chest. "I'm not strong enough to produce the power he does."

"You don't need to be." He fiddled with his watch, checking the time before continuing. "We've known for awhile that the first Shell isn't feasible long term. He requires too much iron—runs through it much too quickly. Since the first day it came online, Taku has been searching for a better technique." With a smug dip of his head, he indicated the new Shell at her back. "He's created an amplifier, a means of doing more with less. You'll be enough. For a few months at least. Once we've tapped you dry, we'll find another. Your kind is rare, but not so atypical that we can't replace you."

His words sent a wave of cold snaking down her spine, but she filed away everything he'd revealed, refusing to dwell on it. If miraculously she ever managed to escape, she could worry about his secrets then.

For now, all that mattered was freeing Nomi.

Somehow.

"Then you don't need him." She chose each word carefully, laying them out before Masaru like concrete, irrefutable facts. "I can take his place. If you'll free him, I'd do it by choice."

He shook his head, pity written across his features. "We don't need you to choose. Don't play dumb, Kal. It doesn't suit you."

She didn't rise to his bait. "What's the sense in keeping him?"

She glanced up at Nomi. The iron in his tank had dropped a few inches as the rust around his feet was siphoned away. His eyes remained closed, his body kept standing by a harness around his chest, not his own will. He looked no more alive than a corpse.

A sob threatened to rise in her throat, but she choked it down. "Look at him, Masaru. He doesn't have long. Let him be free—let him be free and I'm yours. However you want me."

A beat of silence descended, disturbed only by the faint beeping of a distant machine. Masaru sat frozen, his lips half-parted, his eyes widened in surprise.

For a desperate moment, she wanted to take the offer back. She couldn't be his. It would kill her—not her body, but her soul. Then her thoughts flicked unbidden to Hiei, to the animalistic rage he'd exhibited when she'd revealed what Masaru wanted from her. He'd sworn to murder the puppeteer if he forced Kalanie to bend to him—but this wasn't the sort of manipulation Hiei had envisioned.

This was for Nomi.

And she'd do anything for him.

 _Anything_.

But before she could further humiliate herself, Masaru stood, rising fluidly and smoothing out his pants with firm swipes of his palms. "Sorry, Kal. Too little, too late. We've a plan, and I won't deviate from it. Now stand."

She did so.

For the first time, her panic broke past the walls she'd built, bringing with it tendrils of the fog. She curled her hands into fists around the hems of her sleeves. "Think of what we could be together. I want this. I'm choosing you—"

Masaru moved like lightning, seizing her with a viciousness she'd rarely seen from him. His fingers clamped tight as vices around her biceps. "You're choosing _him_. Your brother. Not me. No more lying. No more games. You had your chance to pick the right future, and you turned it down. Now I'm picking for you." With a parting squeeze, he shoved her toward the second Shell. "Get in."

Her legs carried her forward, but she stared back at him. Desperate, she resorted to pleading, whatever traces of dignity she'd once possessed long forgotten. "You could do this for me. You could make it right—all of it. You—"

"I could. But I won't. Now, silence."

The compulsion locked her voice away, and every attempt to speak sent wracking coughs through her chest.

When she reached the Shell, her hands rose of their own accord, bracing against the tank as she stepped through an opening in the glass. Her boots clanked against the ceramic base.

She hadn't even turned around before Masaru shut the tank's opening and latched the glass into place. It formed a perfect seal, utterly without cracks, and at the press of a button, molten iron began to pump into the container, rising around her ankles and quickly climbing up her shins.

Unlike Nomi, she wasn't intubated. What that meant she couldn't be sure, but Masaru seemingly read the question in her eyes. His voice came through the glass slightly distorted. "You'll only be in there a day or two—for now. No need for feeding tubes yet."

As panic rose, bile surging into her throat in its wake, she banged a fist against the glass. It didn't give—not even when she threw a shoulder against it.

"Be still."

Her muscles locked up.

Masaru heaved a sign. "I wish it hadn't gone this way, Kal. I hope you know that."

Had she the means, she would have told him all that she _did_ know. That he was scum. The worst filth in all the worlds. That she would never hate another soul the way she despised him. That dreams of his death would give her comfort in oblivion.

But as the iron level rose over her hips, sending her aura spiking impossibly high, and he flipped a new switch, she remained incapable of any movement at all, let alone speech.

With a crackling thrum, the Shell stirred to life. Instant pain blackened the edges of her vision as the machine siphoned her newfound energy away, bleeding it from her frame, tearing it from her bones. Only Masaru's compulsion kept her standing.

She thought, then, of Nomi. How he had lived like this for months. Alone. Enduring the unbearable. And she wished she could look at him, that she could find him through the growing darkness and gather him in her arms, taking him with her into whatever came next. Together, maybe they could face it.

But she couldn't turn her head. She couldn't even shift her eyes.

So it wasn't Nomi's face she saw as consciousness slipped away.

It was _his_.

She saw him not in person, not standing next to Masaru in that sterile laboratory, but within her mind, blazing like a beacon against the pain. Dark hair. Crimson eyes. Purple light shining from his forehead.

– _Resist. Hold out.–_

His strength buoyed hers, forcing back the dark, shutting out the searing pain, and with his help, she clawed her way back to the surface. The lab sharpened into focus, bringing with it Masaru's somber features, the downward turn of his lips. Other than the puppeteer, the facility seemed deserted.

Where was Hiei? How was he in her mind?

Or maybe he wasn't. His voice, his face, his heat—they might all be imaginings of her failing intellect. A last defense against the Shell's onslaught.

– _I'm not a trick.–_

He pushed an image to her. Moonlight gleamed off orange leaves. Tree trunks blurred past at ludicrous speed. Then there was the silver flash of his katana, a puppet falling before the blow.

It was unmistakably the Woods of War. His victim must have been one of Masaru's guards meant to protect the laboratory. Swift and merciless, Hiei had cut him down like he was nothing.

– _Keep your wits. Be ready. Two minutes.–_

Ready for what?

– _I'm getting you out.–_

No. Not her.

Nomi.

He had to get Nomi.

She hurled the idea at him with every fiber of her being, forgetting all else in the urgency of her conviction. His target had to be Nomi. Her freedom meant nothing, not if it meant leaving Nomi behind to die.

If Hiei heard her, he gave no indication.

She pressed harder, screaming with everything but the voice she no longer controlled. _Nomi. Save Nomi_.

Hiei didn't listen.

* * *

AN: I know this chapter was very light on the YYH gang (as have been the last few), but that is almost behind us. Forgive me for the intense, tight focus on Kalanie!

I've turned in my revisions to my agent, which means I can go back to drafting this story. Can't wait to dive back in! I'm so glad I never ran out of pre-written material to update with.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! Hope you enjoyed this one.


	22. You and I, Do or Die

The window on the far wall shattered, glass spraying inward in a torrent of shards. At once, Masaru whirled, his hand dropping to a knife at his hip. "Blade to your throat, Kal!"

Her arm responded to his order, dragging upward through the iron flooding the Shell. It had reached her shoulders, and her hand barely breached the surface as she settled a dagger against the column of her neck, directly over the pulse jumping beneath her pale skin.

Hiei leapt through the ruined windowpane, a blur of black and silver. As he landed, his energy spiked, snapping across his skin in a vicious cloud, unbridled and wild. On his forehead, purple light pulsed from his Jagan. "Release her."

It took her a beat to realize he'd spoken aloud. She'd grown so used to his voice tucked deep within her mind, thrumming alongside her own thoughts. Hearing it with her ears rather than woven into her consciousness seemed painfully impersonal, and though he stood closer to her than he'd been in weeks, he suddenly felt drastically farther away.

"I'm afraid that won't be happening," Masaru answered. With his back to her, she couldn't see his expression, but she could hear the bored irritation in his voice as he said, "I'd have thought you learned from last time, Jaganshi. You've no power here." Then, speaking directly to her, he added, "If he attacks, kill yourself, Kal."

She would.

Happily.

Without her to distract him, Hiei would rescue Nomi. He'd have to—

– _You will not kill yourself.–_

He didn't look at her as he commanded it, but the thought slid through her own with knife-sharp intensity, cutting past the pain still ravaging her body and casting aside her insistence on Nomi's safety. Moving slowly, his katana ready in one hand, Hiei strode closer. "You will set her free or I will destroy this lab and everything in it."

"Threats will get you nowhere." Masaru drew his dagger and turned the blade this way and that, watching the light dance along its edge. "I don't know how you got past my guards, but with one shout, I can summon every last one of them. Not even you can take thirty puppets."

The bandages wrapped Hiei's right arm caught fire and burned away, ashes drifting to the floor. Beneath, his dragon waited. Perhaps it was a delusion driven by her pain-addled mind, but she could've sworn the tattoo writhed across his skin, twisting around his arm as if fighting to free itself from its confines.

"I won't warn you again."

Arcing a brow, Masaru mused, "You don't care much for her life, do you? I'd imagine you wouldn't risk it so brazenly if she mattered to you the way she clearly hopes she does." He flipped the switch that had turned on the Shell's siphon, and at once, the blistering pain of her energy leeching from her body cut out. "She spoke of you differently than your fellow traitor ilk, you know. A shame she misjudged you. For her, that is. I'm not surprised. I've always known you for what you were."

– _When the portal opens, be ready.–_

She refused, tossing the notion back at him with all the force she could muster. He had to go for Nomi. Masaru wouldn't be expecting it. If a portal was going to open, if Kuwabara had a means to get someone out of here, it had to be her brother.

It had to.

"Maybe I've been offering the wrong warning," Masaru said softly. He extended a slender finger, tapping a button on the Shell's console with precise care. A ceramic piece beneath her boots shifted, and the iron began to drain from the tank, swirling downward in a molten current. In moments, the Shell was empty. Quickly, Masaru released the latch holding the tank's opening panel closed. It swung open, releasing her.

"Kal, attack the Jaganshi."

The compulsion seized her instantly.

As she leapt from the Shell, the dregs of the iron coating her arms, Hiei slid into a fighting stance, his katana level and ready. He met her in a clash of steel, catching her newly formed blade against the curve of his sword. Sparks flew.

They became a blur of limbs, a whirlwind of attacks and counters, strikes and parries. Through it all, she blasted him with images of Nomi, forcing his attention to her brother over and over. Masaru had commanded her to attack, but not to kill, and she took deliberate measures to drive Hiei toward Nomi's Shell.

The closer they drew, the harder she pushed.

– _There won't be time to save you both.–_

Then save him.

It wasn't a question. There was no debate. Leave her here. Take Nomi.

Simple.

– _It needs to be you. Trust me.–_

Never. Not on this.

And why should she? He'd betrayed her, abandoning her to Masaru that very morning. Whatever had brought him back here didn't change that. He'd forsaken her, and in doing so, he'd voided any trust that had once risen between them. He wouldn't get it back now, not when trusting him meant deserting Nomi.

– _The portal is about to open. You're coming with me.–_

The tenor of her attacks changed. She'd been playing a game, letting the flow of her muscles reveal her next moves, giving him the opportunity to fend her off with ease, but no more. If he wouldn't save Nomi, he was the enemy—no different from Masaru himself.

Her blade snuck beneath his guard, raking across his stomach. It sheared through the fabric of his cloak and found flesh. Hiei snarled and darted backward, beyond the reach of her next lunge.

– _Kalanie, don't be a fool.–_

She wasn't.

There was only one person in this room she owed loyalty. It wasn't Masaru, but nor was it Hiei. And that meant she couldn't hold back. Not in this. Which meant more metal. She needed iron in vast quantities if she were to best the fire demon, and there was only one place to get that much steel.

Nomi's Shell.

As Hiei retaliated, his katana arcing toward her side, she deflected the blow and kept her thoughts tightly focused on that requirement for iron, repeating it to herself like an endless, looping mantra, drowning out everything else—Hiei, Masaru, the compulsions. None of it mattered. Only her plan. _Iron. Nomi's Shell. Victory._

To get there, all she had to do was shatter the glass.

Before Hiei could strike again, she circled past him and drove a fist toward the Shell. Simultaneously, she urged her iron into spikes across her knuckles. Upon impact, the steel points fractured the tank, and as cracks spiderwebbed across its surface, Masaru begin to yell, screaming for her to back away, to stand down.

But he was too late.

Iron spilled from the shattered containment cell. It rushed to her, converging around her feet and solidifying as it did so, but she paid no mind to the power growing within her. She could see only Nomi, still dangling from his harness, so weak and frail.

Her precious, beloved brother.

So close and yet so disastrously out of reach.

Masaru's commands sank through her muddled thoughts, shaking free the focus that had kept her honed on Nomi. Her legs moved, carrying her away from her brother—back toward _him_.

Or at least they tried.

An arm like corded steel wrapped around her waist. She thudded backwards into Hiei's scorching chest. His voice was a snarl in her ear. "No more. You've lost, Masaru."

She felt it then, the warping of space as Kuwabara's dimension sword cleaved a portal between the worlds. The rift tore open to their right, and beyond it, she felt the draw of Kuwabara's energy, distant and cloudy, but discernable nonetheless.

"Kal, kill him."

The order convulsed through her, locking up her muscles and sending her bucking against Hiei's grip. Her iron writhed across her arms. It shifted into knives, twin blades gleaming in her hands and sharp edges forming along the backs of her forearms, but Hiei didn't falter, keeping her trapped firmly against his chest.

"Stop resisting me," he bit out. "Go. Get through the portal."

He followed the words with a shove, and she staggered toward the rift. To her dismay—and utter, bone-shattering shock—her muscles obeyed Hiei just as they did Masaru. Though she fought every step, striving desperately to change her course—to get to Nomi—her body wouldn't listen. It wasn't hers to control. Yet again.

And more than that, with a certainty that crushed her beneath its weight, she realized something seemingly impossible. Somehow, through some trickery she couldn't explain, Hiei had pulled her strings as thoroughly as Masaru ever had.

He'd _compelled_ her.

* * *

As the portal closed around Kalanie, pulling at her edges, drawing her from Demon World, she heard Masaru yelling, screeching fresh orders, summoning his guards from the woods, and she spotted Nomi in the corner of her eye, still limp in his harness. For one last fractured moment, she was aware of the puppets closing in on all sides, dozens of auras converging on the battered laboratory.

Then her feet hit solid ground and she dropped to her knees.

Hiei was a heartbeat behind, his energy still burning like a torch, lancing through the air. His shadow slanted over her. Blood from the gash she'd shorn through his stomach dripped into the dirt. Wordlessly, he extended a hand to pull her upright as the portal flickered out of existence.

She didn't take it.

Dully, she was aware of the shrine ahead, buttery light spilling from its windows, and she felt Kuwabara close at hand. Genkai was near, too.

But she had eyes for none of that.

There was only the fire demon. His sick, twisted treachery. She would never forgive it. He'd _controlled_ her. He'd been no better than Masaru. After everything she'd told him, everything she'd shared with him, all the vulnerabilities she'd entrusted to him, he'd still compelled her. Robbed her of her free will. Forced her to abandon Nomi.

In a fluid lunge, she dove at him. The iron still clinging to her arms formed easy knives, and she slashed them across his outstretched arm, cutting to the bone. Commotion broke out—Kuwabara shouting, Genkai cursing, Hiei stumbling backward, shock in his eyes. None of it mattered.

She attacked again. This time, her iron fractured into a dozen throwing stars, and she hurled them like Touya's shards of winter. Five struck home, three embedding their serrated edges in Hiei's thigh, two lancing across his ribs.

"The hell are you doing?" Kuwabara demanded. He sprinted closer, emerging in her peripheral vision, his dimension sword in hand. "The shrimp saved you! We saved you!"

Saved her?

As if.

They'd ruined her. They'd sentenced Nomi to death. Despite her pleading, despite her desperation, Hiei had ignored her wishes. He'd chosen her over Nomi, and in the process, he stripped away the last pathetic shreds of her spirit.

He'd compelled her.

Hell, he'd actually _compelled_ her.

It seemed the reality would never truly set in.

With a snarl, she renewed her assault. The ground rumbled as she called for the iron hidden far below the temple. The soil shifted and groaned, shaking as if suffering an earthquake, but she kept steady as she struck at Hiei, channeling Chu's punishing kicks and reinforcing her punches in an imitation of Jin's tornado fists.

This time, he was ready for her, but he kept on the defensive, deflecting her blows but not returning them. Still, she landing solid hits, scoring an uppercut to his gut and catching his jaw with her iron-coated knuckles.

"Stop this," Genkai barked. She darted closer, seemingly ready to interfere.

Hiei snarled. "Don't."

The old psychic hesitated. "We don't have time for this! We need you to join the others in the Forest of Fools. Until you're there, we've no means of contacting them. If they need a portal home, we won't know it—"

"I'm aware," Hiei snapped. "I chose this plan. I understand what it entails."

His split attention enraged her. How dare he disregard her.

But when he spoke next, his words froze her in place as surely as if she'd been welded to the earth. "Enough, Kalanie. No more fighting. Come to your damn senses."

Her thoughts scattered. The force of his order knocked her breathless.

The suddenness with which she stilled startled him. He remained in a crouch, his eyes narrowed as if anticipating some fresh attack, but she couldn't muster one. He'd robbed her of that ability.

"How are you doing it?" she hissed.

Nonplussed, he said nothing.

She bared her teeth. She felt caged, trapped like an animal, and she abhorred him for it. "How are you compelling me?"

"Hn. I'm not."

"Like hell you aren't."

Uncertainty flickered across his sharp features. A frown puckered his lips, creased his forehead. "I'm not your puppeteer. I can't compel you."

She spat a curse, anger coiling tight as a spring in her chest, but Genkai interrupted. "You're sure he's controlling you, girl?"

An inane question if she'd ever heard one. "What do I gain from lying about it?"

"Fair enough." The psychic stepped closer, looking pointedly from Kalanie's marked arms to Hiei's Jagan, still glowing purple on his forehead. "You're still in Masaru's head, correct?"

Hiei flinched, the color leeching from his cheeks. It seemed he'd pieced together the same puzzle Genkai had, though what they knew still evaded her. With painstaking slowness, he nodded. "I am."

"Then you've encountered something we didn't anticipate. I should have seen it before." Genkai cast Hiei a somber look, one Kalanie couldn't properly decipher. "As long as you're tapped into Masaru, your words act the same as his. The very link that lets you see into Kalanie's mind also allows you to control it. Or rather, forces you to do so."

In the resulting silence, her heart skipped a beat. When the quiet grew too loud, she cleared her throat. "You're speaking nonsense. Hiei talked to me for weeks. None of his commands registered like a compulsion."

"Because those were in your head. To have power, these sort of spells must be heard. Properly. Until you heard Hiei's voice, this power wouldn't manifest."

Her rage flickered. Exhaustion was closing in. Though she'd been trapped in it for only minutes, the pain of the Shell's machinations was catching up to her. She needed rest. Soon.

"I don't understand," she said. "Any of it. You left, Hiei. You went to the Forest of Fools. How did you find me? Why can you still compel me now when we're in another world from _him_? Where are all the others?"

"There's no time." Genkai pointed at Kuwabara. "Open a portal, moron. Quickly. Hiei needs to go."

Stealing a last glance at Kalanie, Kuwabara nodded. "Right. Sorry." He slashed his dimension sword, cutting a line through the air that peeled open, forming a fresh portal. "There you go, shrimp."

Hiei remained still a moment longer, studying her with an unreadable intensity. Blood dripped from the wounds she'd torn across his stomach and arms, and he couldn't hide his wince as he tugged her throwing stars from his thigh, but there was no animosity in his gaze. Like dying coals stoked back to flames, heat woke in her bones. His mind slid against hers. _–I will explain. Everything. But not now.–_

Then he broke for the portal, and she had no chance to call after him before he disappeared, swallowed up in a blur of black. The rift faded. With it went her last scraps of strength. Her knees buckled once more, and she thudded into the dirt.

"Whoa, there," Kuwabara said, loping to her side. Gently, he looped an arm around her shoulders, then slipped the other around her thighs and lifted her up. "The shrimp warned you'd probably need to sleep. Let's get you to bed."

She wanted to speak, to ask what he meant about Hiei. What had the fire demon told him? When? Why? But she couldn't seem to work her tongue. Her fatigue was calling, drawing her into the dark. Apparently, she'd found another battle she couldn't win.

She was asleep before he reached the stairs.

* * *

Kalanie woke in a room that was at once familiar and unrecognizable, and as she struggled upright, shoving back the blanket tucked up to her chin, she realized she wasn't alone.

Straight ahead, framed in a pale shaft of early morning light, Hiei stood at the window. At her movement, he turned and watched her, his expression somber, giving away nothing of what he was thinking. His Jagan still gleamed on his forehead, lit with a lavender glow.

She hardly dared breathe as she asked, "Are you in my head?"

"No."

"Are you in _his_?"

"Hn."

"Then you can control me."

His jaw tightened. "If I misspeak."

She considered forbidding him to talk at all. The idea of him compelling her made her sick, and though she knew now he hadn't intended to control her, the dreadful sensation as her body had carried her away from Nomi was not one she could readily forget—even if it hadn't been his fault.

But as the room came into focus, revealing itself to be the same bedroom she'd occupied weeks ago, a splinter of calm wormed its way through her tumultuous emotions, dampening her anger and quieting her fear. If nothing else, she'd escaped _him_ again. At least for a time. That was something to be thankful for.

"You're here to tell me what happened?"

"To the extent that you'll listen."

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin atop them. The blanket slipped downward, gathering around her feet. "I'll listen. But I don't want excuses. I want the truth. About everything."

"I can show you—"

"No." She couldn't handle that— _being_ him, feeling everything he did, seeing the world through his eyes. Right now, she needed space. For too long, he'd been inside her, their minds cohabiting a place meant for only one consciousness. To meld with him now, as fully and completely as sharing his memories required, would undo her. "Tell me."

He exhaled slowly. If she didn't know better, she might have called it a sigh, but there was something off about it. It seemed steadying rather than resigned, bracing instead of forlorn. "Where do I begin?"

"At the start."

He left the window and crossed to the foot her bed. "It would be easier if I could show you. Quicker, too."

"I can't, Hiei. I can't have you in my head. Not after what you did." She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the sight of him before the hurt tightening around his eyes could weaken her stance. "Nothing can ever be the same now."

"Don't hold—" He cut himself off. A growl reverberated in his throat. He chose his next words with measured care. "I wish you wouldn't hold that against me. I had no way to know that might happen. Compelling you… I never intended it."

"Doesn't change what happened." Cracking an eye open, she peeked at him. His features were drawn, strained with a stress she'd never seen in him before. It was nearly enough to buckle her resolve. Nearly, but not quite.

"I'm not your enemy. Stop treating me—" he cut himself off again, then cursed, "Fuck." With a snarl, he punched the mattress. The blow shook the bed, rattling it to the very frame. The legs whined and squealed, scratching the wooden floorboards. Genkai wouldn't be pleased, though Kalanie imagined divots in the floor were a better alternative than him striking the wall or something equally foolish.

He bent over the bed, his hands balled into fists against the comforter, and she couldn't see his face as he drew a hissing breath in through his nose. "I can barely talk to you. If I could show you, we could avoid this."

She felt the tentative brush of his mind against hers, but she walled him out, forcing back his probing touch. "Not happening. You can already control my body. Must you control my mind, too?"

Her words hit him like a physical attack. He stiffened, tension knotting in the corded muscle of his exposed back. "You know that's not what I want."

"Maybe. Maybe not. The lines have gotten a little blurry."

She was still exhausted, too tired to keep up this fight, and as Hiei fidgeted, grinding his teeth as he searched for the right words, she felt mercy rise within her. Who was she kidding? He was right. She knew he didn't want to manipulate her. That had never been his game. Conflating him with Masaru would get her nowhere.

Gingerly, all too aware how vulnerable she was if he spoke a single line out of turn, she patted the mattress. "Sit. Tell me what happened. Start with when you first got through to me—when you helped burn away the fog. Back then, you'd promised not to leave me with _him._ I want to know what changed. How did we get to yesterday?"

He surveyed her a moment longer, seemingly waiting for the trick, for the hidden barb she might still loose. When none came, he kneeled on the bed and scooted over. He stopped as he reached her feet and pressed his back to the wall perpendicular to hers. Through his pants and the jumbled blankets, his thigh cast heat against her toes, toasting them as if they were exposed to an open flame.

Despite everything that had happened between them, despite all his betrayals and missteps, despite his abandonment of Nomi, she couldn't resist squirming her feet closer to him, tucking her toes beneath the press of his firm, muscled thigh.

His contented purr sent a shiver down her spine.

She closed her eyes again and forced away everything but her need to know what had transpired. The rest could come later. For now, she needed answers. "Enough stalling," she murmured. "Start talking."

And he did.

* * *

AN: How's that for developments!? Hiei accidentally compelling Kalanie. Ignoring her desire for Nomi to be saved instead. A return to the shrine. So many shenanigans!

Hehe, I can't even begin to tell you how delightful it is to have written Hiei into a place where he can't rattle off declarative statements like he's the boss of the world. It softens his edges a bit when he can't toss commands around like they're nothing.

And Kalanie is free again—at least for now—which means the whole gang will be back in the picture. I've missed them thoroughly. I think you're all going to enjoy next chapter quite a bit. Can't wait to post it!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all rock!


	23. Heart Aflame, Ev'ry Part Aflame

"There's no good way to tell this story," Hiei said, his low voice filling her bedroom's quiet spaces. Kalanie let it envelop her, cocooning herself in its rough protections. At some imprecise moment since she'd last sat in this bed, during some blurred instance of her captivity, he'd become the only solid thing in her life—the one person she could count on—and though he'd failed her since then, it was hard not to fall back into the steady comfort he'd come to mean for her.

"I've said why I came for you. We thought you might hold answers or have the means to get them. At the time, I hadn't realized what he'd done to you—what he _was_ doing to you." He paused a moment, and she felt the prickle of his attention on her, but she didn't open her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at him as he recalled how broken she'd been before he'd pieced her back together.

Tears brimmed along her lashes, and she ducked her head into her knees. "I'm sorry," she whispered, the apology catching pitifully. "You thought I was better than I was, but I'm not, Hiei. I can't do what you told me to. My chains… I don't know how to break them."

The blankets rustled. He curled a hand around her ankle. An odd gesture. And yet, somehow, precisely what she'd needed.

"I didn't understand," he said. "Before, I'd imagined the Sovereign Binds acted like my Jagan. It can control those weaker than me. For a time. But it can be fought. Blocked out. Overpowered. I'd assumed the Binds were the same. I was wrong."

She said nothing.

With a gentleness she wouldn't have thought him capable of, he stroked his thumb across her ankle bone. His coarse calluses scraped across her smooth skin.

A delicious, distracting tingle shot through her.

After a beat, Hiei continued. "If I could have extracted you, I would have. Then and there. But I couldn't take that fortress alone. Not even the dragon could fight the entire puppet army housed within its barracks."

"So you convinced me to stay." Regardless of what it meant for her, despite witnessing how Masaru tormented her, he'd still argued for her to remain there. A prisoner indefinitely.

"We needed information."

A fact. Simple. Cold.

"Is that all I was worth? Information?"

Hiei's thumb stilled. "Are you listening to me? I'd have gotten you out if there were a means to do so. I won't say it again. Whether you believe me or or not is your choice, but I won't stay if you insist on acting as though I abandoned you."

"Yet that's exactly what you did."

"Stop—" His jaw clacked shut. Yet again, he rephrased his next thought, careful not to issue an unintended order. "If you'll let me explain rather than interrupting, perhaps you'll realize I never left you at all."

Blinking away the last vestiges of her tears, she snuck a glance at him. His crimson eyes blazed back, full of a conviction she couldn't quite name. "Sorry. I'll stop."

"Good." His tongue flitted out to wet his lips. "I asked you to remain there because it was the only option. If we didn't learn more about Taku's operation, we would lose this war. The barrier would remain down. You'd be forever trapped. Spying on them was the only way forward."

She picked her next words carefully, trying not to argue. "I'm not sure I understand. If you were in Masaru's head, why couldn't you have gotten your information through him. Why did you need me?"

"I told you. If he'd sensed me, he could've locked me out. Then we'd have gotten nothing."

"But he hasn't locked you out. Even now, you're in his mind, aren't you?"

"Not the way I was within yours." His gaze cut into her. "I can't see what he sees. Or hear what he hears. I'm blocked out of his thoughts, even if he can't be rid of me entirely. I've enough hold to compel you, if it comes to that, and I know where he is roughly, but nothing more."

Oh.

The pad of his thumb stirred back into motion, circling the knob of bone protruding from her ankle. His heat sank into her skin, settling in her joints. "My plan, at the start, was to monitor your days. To gather information, yes, but more to determine how I might free you. I'd hoped Masaru might take you from the stronghold. If he had, I'd have attacked."

"But he didn't."

"No. You stayed within those walls. Out of reach. So I kept waiting." His fingers flexed against her leg, tightening and releasing, then constricting once more. "Learning about the second Shell complicated things. There were time constraints. If I didn't get you out quickly, we'd lose not just you, but the barrier around the shrine."

Though she'd promised to stay quiet, she couldn't help but whisper, "But you left. As if none of it mattered, you up and left."

He answered with matter-of-fact patience. "I didn't. You wouldn't give me the opportunity to explain, but that doesn't change the truth. I didn't go anywhere, Kalanie."

"You were gone. I know you were. I felt you go." A knot rose in her throat.

His hand slip up her leg, curving around her calf. "I had to leave your mind, but I remained within Masaru's. If you'd listened, I would have told you. The power the Jagan needed to keep my connection to you was a drain. Constant and unrelenting. Doubly so because I had to maintain contact with Masaru in order to remain linked with you.

"When Yusuke and Kurama decided they needed me, I had to make a choice. I couldn't stay within your mind and Masaru's _and_ have the ability to reach the oaf as well. Even if I could, I certainly wouldn't help win any wars." He rocked his head back against the wall, glaring up at the ceiling. In the dimly lit room, his Jagan glowed like a beacon. "So I chose. Against Kurama's better judgment, I maintained my presence inside Masaru, but I had to leave you."

Guilt drummed in her pulse. "I didn't realize…"

"How could you? For all your claims to know our powers, I knew you couldn't understand the Jagan. Few do."

She fiddled with the dirty knees of her pants. When Kuwabara had put her to bed, he'd left her in the uniform Masaru had dictated for her yesterday. After her twin fights with Hiei, the cloth was worse for wear. With her thumbnail, she scraped away soil ground into the threads. "You were keeping an eye on me."

"Hn."

"That's how you knew where we were. How you found that research facility."

"I'd planned to disconnect from Masaru once I reached the others. If I were distracted by him—by _you_ —during battle, I'd be no use. But I never got that far. When he woke you, I was still an hour out from the rendezvous point with Yusuke. As soon as I read his intentions, I contacted Kurama. Changed our plans."

"Came back for me."

"Yes."

Huffing, he dragged his free palm down his face and rubbed at his eyes. For the first time since he'd burst into the laboratory, she took him in, really and truly, noticing the dark bags sunken above his cheeks, the lines of fatigue and pallor in his cheeks. Had he not slept last night? For that matter, when had he returned to the shrine? Had Yusuke and Kurama and the rest been with him?

He spoke before she could ask, delving into the one topic he'd left unearthed so far. "You may not understand them, but I had my reasons for saving you instead of Nomi."

Her concern over his exhaustion evaporated. "Care to explain them?"

"First you should know what they hoped to achieve—"

"I already do. Taku wanted to bring down the shrine's barrier, and my energy was to serve as their power source. So what? You still could've saved my brother."

"And then what? You witnessed the way the Shell functions yourself, weeks ago, the first time we attempted Nomi's rescue. Can you think of where freeing Nomi would have left us if they still held you?"

He waited for her to put the pieces together, and in the silence, her thoughts flicked back to that horrid day of waiting, the tortured hours she'd spent in Mazou's company anticipating the barrier's return.

When Taku's army had moved Nomi, the barrier hadn't risen immediately. If Masaru's explanation was to be believed, Taku had built some sort of energy reserve, some means of powering the interference machine that disabled the barrier even without Nomi fueling the Shell. With its assistance, the shield's rise occurred on a delay. That lag had served as an easy deception, catching the detectives off-guard and ruining their rescue attempt, but she hadn't given it more weight than that before.

It still seemed irrelevant now.

Hiei loosed a frustrated growl. "Must I spell it out? The barrier would have remained down for a time. With you installed in the secondary Shell, they'd still have the means to bring down the temple's shield, and without the world barrier, their army could advance on us unimpeded."

Which would have left the shrine vulnerable.

"I don't…" She trailed off uncertainly. The rage that had fueled her flickered, fading before the reality Hiei presented. "I don't see how that matters. If Yusuke and the others killed the new puppeteers in the Forest of Fools, you could have held the shrine."

"Hn. Not likely."

She bit her lip. "Their forces—"

"Would beat us," he interrupted. "Without doubt. Even if Kuwabara managed to bring our main fighters back from the Forest of Fools in time, they'd still be weary. The fight against those puppeteers wasn't easy. If Taku brought fresh soldiers against us, we'd have lost."

"Back up," she said, holding out a hand to stop him. "Explain the battle against the new puppeteers. I don't see how they could be such a fearsome enemy. Without puppets, they're nothing."

"They weren't alone."

Oh.

The hand he'd wrapped around her calf squeezed lightly. "Now you see?"

Not entirely. But she was beginning to.

"After you observed the map of their deployments, I relayed that intelligence to Kurama. In turn, he informed Yomi, who dispatched a contingent of spies to the Forest of Fools. They discovered mercenaries around the puppeteer's encampment—employed by Taku, surely. That's why Yusuke felt a direct strike was necessary. Immediately. If Taku had gone to such lengths to protect the puppeteers, no doubt they were vital to his war efforts."

Her last tenuous grip on her anger failed. "Why didn't you tell me all this b _efore_ you left?"

"You wouldn't let me."

"Because you told me you were leaving. Blunt and without preface. I couldn't know all this, not on my own, but you could have told me. You could have started with your reasons. Instead, you left me in the dark."

"I was pressed for time." He frowned pensively at the blanket scrunched around her feet as he added, "I won't claim I handled it properly."

She barked a hollow laugh. "You can say that again."

He leveled her with a cool glare, remote and firmly guarded. "But you understand now? Rescuing Nomi would have been no rescue at all."

She did. She saw that.

But it didn't mend her heartbreak. Not in the slightest.

"He's dying," she whispered. A sob caught in her teeth, so sudden and unexpected that even her attempts to hold it back weren't enough to stop a faint whimper passing her lips. "The Shell is killing him. You saw that, didn't you?"

"Hn."

"We need to save him. Hiei… I can't let him die like that. Alone. In pain." She grabbed his wrist, wrapping her slim fingers around his taut flesh. His tendons flexed beneath her grip, but he didn't pull away. "I still don't see why you couldn't save us both. Once I broke his Shell, you could have cut down his harness—"

"There was no time. Maintaining a portal weakens Kuwabara. Quickly. If he kept the rift open longer, he risked not being able to bring Yusuke and Kurama back from the Forest of Fools."

"So you chose me."

His chin dipped a degree in assent. "I chose you."

"And what becomes of my brother?"

"The fox is already formulating plans."

She sat upright, the motion closing the gap beneath her calf and thigh, pinning his hand in place. Its heat bled through her pants. "What do you mean?"

"After I returned you here, I joined the fight in the Forest of Fools. Their mercenaries disbanded before a tri-pronged attack from Yusuke, Jin, and Touya, while I joined Kurama in leading Chu, Rinku, and Shishiwakamaru against the puppeteers. We eliminated them." He bared his teeth in a prideful snarl. "Now, we own the advantage."

Which meant they would press it, for as long as they could, as hard as they could.

Hiei shifted toward her, leaning closer. The warmth cast from his chest seeped into her shins. "A few more precise strikes at their outposts will reduce Taku's army enough to give us a chance in a final fight. That's how we save Nomi."

"When? How soon do we make our move?"

He cocked a singular brow. "We?"

"I'm not staying here. Not anymore. If you can override Masaru's compulsions, then there's nothing to stop me joining you."

"Hn. I can only best him by compelling you in turn."

She tightened her hold on him, sliding her hand up his arm until her fingers reached his elbow. Supple muscle rippled under her touch, and his gaze darted to their joined arms before flitting back to her face. "If he attempts to use the Binds, you've my permission to do what you must. Keep me from him. However necessary. But don't ask me to stay behind. Not when it's my brother's life on the line."

"I'll talk to the others."

The urge to fight him—to storm from this room and demand they acquiesce that very second—swelled in her, but she wrested it aside. For just a moment, she needed to breathe, to recuperate, to remember what it felt like not to live in constant fear.

"You didn't answer my question," she murmured instead, staring at where her flesh met his, noting how pale her fingers were next to his tanned skin. He was, she realized distantly, a beautiful creature. Rugged. Rough-hewn. Built for war and death and destruction. Yet cruelly exquisite. "When do you anticipate our next fight?"

"A week. Maybe less."

Only a handful of days. But an eternity for Nomi. "Why not sooner?"

Hiei huffed a breath. "We need time to heal. Kurama is badly injured. Chu and Touya as well." He glanced away from her. "I'm not without harm either."

She blanched.

The meaning couched in his words did not fly astray. Memories of the brutal assault she'd launched against him upon their return to the shrine brought a flush to her cheeks, and she wracked her eyes over his body, looking for signs of the damage she'd wrought.

Dressings wrapped around his arm—not his right, which bore the dragon, but his left, the normally flawless stretch of fine-crafted muscle obscured beneath bloodied cloth. Slowly, fearing what she might find, she relinquished his arm and tugged at the hem of his shirt, revealing bandages wound about his middle.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, the words jumbling together in her rush to atone. "For attacking you. I shouldn't have—"

He snagged her hand in his. "Don't."

Her voice died on her tongue, whether from a compulsion or genuine surprise not even she could say.

"You don't—" He shook his head and started again. "I don't think you owe me any apologies."

"But I do—"

"No. Not for this." A muscled ticked in his jaw, and he focused on her hand with single-minded intensity, not so much as sneaking a glance her way as he said, "I failed you repeatedly. At every turn. Yet you delivered. You gave us the information we needed. You provided a means to end all this." His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he jammed his eyes closed. "It's me who needs forgiveness, but I won't ask it of you. I don't deserve—"

She moved without thinking, rising onto her knees and shifting into him. Her free hand caught his chin, tipping it back even as her sudden closeness trapped their linked palms between their chests. He blinked, caught unawares, powerless—or perhaps unwilling—to stop her, and his lips parted with surprise when she dipped her head to his. Beneath her touch, they were firm but supple, burning with the same fiery warmth as the rest of him. She lost herself in that heat, willing it to slide into her skin and curl within her bones.

Slow to respond, he remained still as stone as she slipped her hand around the back of his neck and wound her fingers into the roots of his hair. Then a growl—or was it a purr?—built in his chest, rumbling, full of possessive desire. She felt it in her palms, in her chest, in her lips, and in a flash, he'd freed the hand that had been trapped between them. His grip shifted to her hips, drawing her closer, pulling her in until her knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his thighs.

She'd expected him to seize control, to guide the kiss with the ferocity he brought to so much else, but he refrained. Though his thumbs slid beneath her shirt, tracing across her taut stomach, he let her lead.

And so, when she broke away, breathless, her chest heaving, her heartbeat erratic and wild, he remained still, his head angled upward, his lips parted just a fraction. His eyes smoldered like coals. Up close, the Jagan's purple glow painted shadows across his face, turning him unreadable.

Wetting her lips, she leaned inward until her mouth brushed his ear. He shuddered as she spoke, her breath ghosting across his skin. "I won't say I forgive you. It all seems too complicated for that. But you can make it right. _We_ can. If we can save my brother… Well, then there wouldn't be anything to forgive."

Chuckling lowly, he snaked his arms around her waist, securing her against him. This time, his mouth found the shell of her ear. He nipped it once, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, before muttering, "Consider that a deal."

She tilted backward until she sat upon his thighs, granting herself enough space to see his face. Looking at him now, she couldn't help but recall the image he'd shown her weeks ago, when he'd saved her from the darkness—from herself. She'd corrected it, altering the smooth flow of his cheeks and curving his jaw, imbuing him with the loyalty and honor and wit she'd come to find so pivotal to his character.

Those were the things that had drawn her to him. They'd made her feel at home. Even when he'd had his katana to her throat, defending Kuwabara against a threat she hadn't yet posed, she'd still felt the pull of him like a gravitational force.

Unavoidable.

Unrelenting.

But in that moment, as he captured her lips with his once more, his hands searing her waistline with their scorching warmth, she recognized the other piece of him, too. The wounded, broken part of his soul that had called to hers from the moment they'd met.

It fit against the jagged fragments of her own person—not completing her, because that was impossible without Nomi, but shoring up her edges. Bolstering her when finding any sense of strength seemed impossible, when hope felt like a fool's dream.

And she wondered, as she lost herself beneath his callused palms and scalding mouth, whether he felt that bond, too, whether she anchored him as he did her. Did his soul spark to hers? Did he feel the link wrought like steel between them?

Or in that, like so much else, did she stand alone?

* * *

AN: At long last, a kiss!

I know Hiei talked _a lot_ in this chapter. And perhaps that was a bit un-Hiei-like. But I think he's grown to a place with Kalanie where he isn't nearly as closed down as he usually is, especially because he felt he had to defend himself and clarify her misunderstandings.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I was dying to get to this chapter for ages and ages (because _kissing_!)

Thanks to all my reviewers!


	24. Comin' Up From the Bottom

"Let's talk logistics."

Sprawled on the floor, his head propped on the cushion meant for his butt, Yusuke shoved a hand into the air.

Kurama sighed. "Yes, Yusuke?"

"Define that word."

"Logistics?"

The half-breed drummed a hand on the floorboards. "That's the one."

"It means we should discuss the practicalities of Kalanie's request to fight alongside us. A list of pros and cons, so to speak."

Yusuke rolled his head to the side, his dark gaze honing in on Kalanie. She stared back, unfazed by the narrowing of his eyes. She'd been ready for this conversation from the moment Hiei had left her room the morning before, off for a much needed hibernation. No doubt Kurama would present—if not argue for—all the reasons she might prove a liability. But she was prepared for that. Let him try to insist she had no place in Nomi's rescue. He'd still be wrong.

Beyond the meeting room, the temple was quiet. Most of their ragtag resistance was still recuperating from the battle in the Forest of Fools. Only the former spirit detectives had gathered to decide her fate, assembling in the early hours of dawn. The first beams of sunlight spilled through the windows at her back, illuminating the foursome that had—despite all odds—saved her yet again.

Staring back at them, she sat tall upon her cushion, her hands folded in her lap. Iron gloves encased them once more, rippling from her fingertips to her elbows, hiding her Sovereign Binds carefully away. Though they'd been gathered for mere minutes, she'd caught Hiei looking at the steel three times already.

What he saw she couldn't be sure.

She hadn't encountered him again after he'd gone off to rest, but he must have told the others her request. Otherwise Kurama never would have called this meeting. For that, if nothing else, she suspected him to side with her. After all, why raise the issue if only to knock it down?

But what else did he feel looking at her hands. Guilt for compelling her? Disgust at her continued vulnerability? Annoyance that he had to watch his words around her? Or, dare she hope it, acceptance? The same steady determination she'd woken with that morning, sure as the rising sun that the Bonds could be overcome, that freedom still awaited her—that the right to _choose_ might be hers again.

Yusuke yawned widely. "Get on with it then, Kurama. These logistics of yours better be damn worth dragging me out of bed at sunup." He jabbed a finger toward the fox. "Sometimes I swear you're worse than the old lady."

"I don't imagine it's as complicated as you believe," Kalanie said, shifting her focus to Kurama. "Hiei's ability to compel me means _he_ cannot strip me of control. Not again. And in turn that means I'm of use in a fight, preferably one staged to rescue my brother."

The stiffness in Kurama's shoulders belied his efforts to appear at ease, giving away the stomach injuries that still hampered him. Whatever had occurred in the Forest of Fools—and the account she'd received from Botan had been too piecemeal for her glean an accurate picture—had left Kurama sorely wounded.

Likewise, Yusuke suffered, too, despite all his attempts at nonchalance. He'd deny it until his dying breath, but his lying down had seemed less a choice and more a necessity.

So they _needed_ her. They'd be fools to deny it. Another fighter—and better yet, a fresh one—was a tool they couldn't turn away.

"I can't remain here indefinitely, watching as you fight back against Taku and his puppeteers. I've waited and I've watched for months now. And where did that get me? Back in Masaru's clutches." When she said _his_ name, Hiei snapped to attention, the purple light of his Jagan deepening, as if perhaps he'd reached out to confirm Masaru's distant location. Clearing her throat, Kalanie continued, "I want to fight. I _must_ fight."

The barrier had risen after her rescue. Which meant the damage she'd dealt to Nomi's Shell hadn't been enough to take it offline. Or, if it had, then Masaru had wrangled Nomi into the new Shell before their energy reserves ran out. Either way, they were still draining him.

That couldn't be allowed to continue.

Kurama's lips pressed thin. "And what happens if you're separated from Hiei? What do we do if Masaru seizes the opportunity and controls you again?"

"Then I've become the enemy and should be treated as such."

Until that moment Kuwabara had been quiet, slumped on his cushion, nursing a mug of coffee, but now he squawked and straightened. "Hell no. That's not happening, Kalanie. We're not—"

She cut him off. "Stop. Kurama is right to point out that possibility. If I end up captured, I'm a weakness. That can't be allowed. No more rescuing _me_." She shot Hiei a pointed look, but he remained unfazed, his features expressionless. "My brother needs to be your focus. Destroy the Shells. Get him back. That's how you end all this. I intend to be beside you in that fight, but if Masaru gets in the way, then cut me loose."

Yusuke pushed himself upright. "We're not really in the business of cutting our friends loose."

She curled her hands into fists and turned back to Kurama. He was the linchpin. Convince him, and the others' opinions didn't matter. She'd be in. But fail to convince him, and she'd likely never leave this shrine again. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Kurama, but two conditions must be met for you to agree on my involvement."

He quirked a brow but said nothing.

"First is this—that if I'm recaptured, I don't become a distraction."

"Correct."

"Then consider this my formal permission to abandon me as lost if I fall under Masaru's will. I understand the liability I present. I accept that if I make mistakes, I will pay for them. I need you—Kuwabara and Yusuke—to accept that as well."

Kurama's jewel-bright gaze shifted to his teammates. "You understand why it needs to be this way, don't you?"

Yusuke grumbled, running a hand over his hair, but it was Kuwabara who nodded. His brow was creased, his lips tucked in a frown, but he didn't argue. "Yeah. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it."

"Good."

Kalanie bit her lip. "And your second condition?"

"You don't know it?"

She could hazard guesses, but she wanted to hear it from him. "Afraid not."

He was quiet a moment longer, appraising her, his scrutiny so intense that it took all her will to remain still and calm. Then his focus moved to Hiei. "Kalanie's involvement hinges upon you, Hiei. She requires you as her protection. You're her shield against Masaru's intervention."

"Hn. Get on with it, fox."

A prickle of unease raised the hair at the back her neck, but Kalanie remained silent as Kurama outlined his second stipulation.

"To move forward, I need confirmation that monitoring Kalanie won't compromise you. Her participation in our upcoming battles gets us nowhere if it weakens you." He tilted his head the barest degree. "How do you weigh that risk, Hiei? Are you confident you can balance protecting Kalanie with your own defenses?"

"Don't insult me."

"I'm not." Kurama spread his hands wide. "Consider the risks. If the two of you grow isolated, will you be able to fend off a dozen puppets _and_ keep Masaru from compelling Kalanie? What if your odds are even worse? We all know you can fend for yourself, but I'm not so sure you can balance both your lives properly."

Hiei snarled, his hand falling to his katana's hilt. "I can maintain that balance just fine."

Kalanie expected Kurama to press the issues, to needle at Hiei until the fire demon cracked. What she didn't expect was for his emerald gaze to swing her way.

"And you, Kalanie. Can you bear it if your presence distracts Hiei? If he is injured—or killed—because he has divided his attention between the physical enemy and the Binds that rule you, can you live with that?"

No.

She couldn't.

But she had no chance to give that answer.

In a rustle of cloth, Hiei rose. His katana clinked free of its sheath. "Enough, Kurama. You've made your point. I understand the risks." His eyes cut to her, smoldering like flames. "As does Kalanie. They're worth taking."

The rest he left unsaid. The reason why. That Nomi was worth _any_ risk.

And as he swept from the room and tore open the front door, Kurama chuckled lowly. "Then I believe that's decided. You'll be joining us, Kalanie. Let the repercussions be what they may."

* * *

A stiff breeze whistled through the trees as Kalanie wound her way into the forest. Birds trilled, flitting off through the leaves, and rustling in the undergrowth revealed some tiny creature scampering away, but she paid the animals little mind, her focus honed with exacting certainty on her destination.

Ahead, the barrier blazed, a bright blue net visible through the branches. She'd yet to confirm if she could pass beyond it unimpeded. If she could, she'd have to ask for that to be rectified.

It was one thing to encounter Masaru in battle—with Hiei at her side, able to combat any orders _he_ threw her way—but it was quite another to run that same risk here, unprotected and susceptible. If he came for her, the barrier might prove her only defense until Hiei could reach her. She shouldn't be allowed through it unaccompanied.

But now wasn't the time to harp on that worry.

She'd slipped away from the temple as the others gathered for dinner. Hiei had witnessed her departure, but he'd made no move to follow and for that she was thankful. She needed a moment to herself, a chance to grieve over what she'd lost.

Mazou.

Vivid, bold Mazou.

Except she hadn't really lost that Mazou. The girl she'd known growing up had been long dead, ground out of existence beneath the sharp heel of Masaru's absurd dress shoes. What he'd left behind was only a semblance of her friend.

And yet it had been all Kalanie had left.

The trees thinned near the barrier, and as she stepped into the clearing, her gaze landed on a charred trunk visible through the crackling spirit energy. It stretched into the sky, a black mark against the forest's vivid green.

Other than the burnt husk, little differentiated this stretch of woods from any other along the domed barrier, but she'd have known it all the same. The lot of it had been seared into her memory, branded across her soul forevermore. This was where Masaru recaptured her. This was where she failed Nomi for the hundredth time. This was where Mazou died.

Here.

Not in that fortress near the Woods of War.

Because it was here that Maz had succumbed to Masaru's will. It was here that he'd debased her, stripping her of all her freedoms. By the time she'd teleported them to Demon World, she was already dead, her fate long since sealed.

Swallowing down the knot that had risen in her throat, Kalanie knelt in the dirt and pressed her fingers into the earth. Deftly, she sent her energy probing below, searching out the iron hidden beneath the surface. Her call was measured, and the metal that answered came slowly, emerging in a fluid stream and pooling in her palms.

She coaxed it into shape. A smooth placard formed, two inches thick, one foot by one foot. With trembling fingers, she set it against the base of a tree, nestling it into the roots, then rocked back on her heels and observed her handiwork.

The marker was a simple thing, plain and unremarkable. Nowhere near as grand as Mazou deserved. But it would do. It was _something_ , and that would have to be enough.

Biting her lip, Kalanie traced a nail across the placard's surface. Ripples formed in the wake of her finger, the iron bending to her will. Five delicate letters appeared.

 _MAZOU._

Perhaps she should have carved more. Words about love and remembrance. Something to keep Maz alive in some distant, unknowable future. But Kalanie was all out of emotional resonance, and no insightful phrases came to her. Certainly nothing that could possibly capture all Mazou had been.

And so she etched nothing more.

Instead, she sat in the dirt, a million memories of Mazou blurring together into a muddled stream of fractured moments. How long until she began to forget them? Already they'd begun fading, their edges going hazy.

Off to her right, leaves crunched. She tore her gaze from the placard, her heart leaping into her throat. Iron coalesced as a knife in her hand, but the intruder wasn't an enemy and the blade melded back into her gloves.

"Yukina?"

The ice apparition ducked beneath a low hanging branch and dipped her head in quiet greeting. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Of course not."

Yukina glided closer, her hands folded within her voluminous sleeves. "I'm so glad you've been returned to us," she murmured as she sank to her knees at Kalanie's side. "I told you once before, but I think it bears repeating. Years ago, I was held captive. So I'm here if ever you need to talk. I know how isolating it can all feel, and I never want you to feel alone in this."

The faintest trace of a smile tugged at Kalanie's lips. "Thank you, Yukina. I appreciate it."

Yukina's eyes—so similar and yet so different from her brother's—lit with affection. She fiddled a moment with the hem of her yukata before her focus shifted to the placard Kalanie had constructed. "I didn't know her well, but Mazou seemed a wonderful soul. I'm sorry for all that happened to her."

Dully, Kalanie wondered how much of her role in Mazou's death Hiei had revealed to the others. Did Yukina realize how deeply Mazou's blood stained her hands? Had Hiei kept them all in the dark? Or did Yukina simply not care?

That seemed somehow impossible. The ice maiden was gentle and kind, full of a warmth that contradicted her kind's very nature. The brutality Kalanie left in her wake was likely unfathomable to Yukina, and yet here she sat, seemingly unfazed.

Kalanie cleared her throat roughly. "The Mazou you met was but a glimmer of my old friend. I wish you could have known the real her, not the shade that Masaru left behind." Closing her eyes, Kalanie bowed her head and whispered, "But then, I'd say the same about myself. I barely recognize who I am anymore. I'd give anything for you to know me as I was instead of as I am."

"But you don't have to be who you were. You know that, don't you? People change. Our lives change us. We're shaped by the good and the bad. Sometimes in equal measure, sometimes not. Either way, you never have to apologize for who you are."

"And if I don't like what I've been molded into? What then?"

"Then you keep changing." Her demure, ever-present smile faded a notch. "After Tarukane, I thought I was broken. I was afraid and lonely and certain I must remain that way—or else put those I cared about in danger. But I was wrong. And who I've become now… I never would have imagined this future for myself before I left the glacial village, but nor would I wish it any different. You can do that, too, Kalanie. The end is not over until we've written it."

She rose fluidly before Kalanie could answer, her yukata falling into place. "Don't stay out here too long. You need to eat, and Kurama is planning strategy talks for the morning. I'm sure you don't want to miss them."

Then she was gone, and only the howling wind remained.

Slowly—oh so slowly—Kalanie splayed a palm against Mazou's placard and turned her eyes to the sky. Somewhere out there, Spirit World waited. By now, Mazou's soul must have been processed, sent on to whatever afterlife she'd earned for herself. A peaceful one, Kalanie hoped. After everything, Maz deserved that much.

But did Kalanie?

Yukina seemed to believe so—or, at least, she thought the future wasn't yet forged in steel. She thought Kalanie still had time to grow, to become some new version of herself. One free of the chains she was shackled with. One who had saved her brother. One who'd toppled the monsters she'd helped raise.

If that chance existed, it would begin with rescuing Nomi, with avenging Mazou.

From there she'd work out the rest.

* * *

When Kalanie returned to her room, she found it occupied.

Hiei perched on the windowsill, his knees drawn to his chest, his gaze locked on the darkened sky. A tray of food rested at the food of her bed, steam escaping from the coverings over twin bowls.

Hardly daring to breathe, she eased the door shut. A day ago, she'd laid tangled in her bed with Hiei. For a brief blip, she'd been lost in him, consumed by his heat and the future he might represent. But once he'd gone, her uncertainties returned, and she couldn't begin to guess where those kisses had left them.

After a beat, he titled his head a degree, watching her from the corner of his eye. "You didn't eat."

Raising a brow, she toed off her boots and moved to the bed, careful not to jostle the steaming bowls. "I wasn't hungry."

"Not a good excuse." A breeze stirred his bangs, setting them dancing across his forehead. "If you want to fight, you need to be fit. Ready. At a moment's notice."

Rolling her eyes, she drew the tray closer. Beneath the bowls' lids, she discovered rice and stir-fry.

"Thanks for saving me this."

"Hn."

Silence fell, and in the quiet, the drumming of her heart echoed in her ears. Hiei watched her eat through narrowed eyes, as if convinced she wouldn't actually do so if he looked away for even a moment. Only once she'd scraped up the last rice grain and pushed away the tray did he at last spring from the window.

Then, wordlessly, he jerked his chin at the wall, the gesture a suggestion rather than a command. She slid backward until her spine hit the plaster, and he followed, coming to rest at her side, his shoulder pressed to hers. His heat blazed into her bones.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she murmured into the darkness, "So planning begins tomorrow?"

"Who told you that?"

"Yukina."

He stiffened, but without opening her eyes, she couldn't gauge what had rattled him. "The fox wants to make our first move in two days and to finish all this within the week."

She tilted her head against the wall and squinted up at the ceiling. "You think that's possible?"

"Hn. Kurama isn't prone to miscalculations."

She nearly laughed. Kurama might not often be wrong, but he'd been off enough to cast doubt. His plans to rescue Nomi on the Plains of Peril had fallen through. Who was to say these wouldn't fail as well?

Her disbelief must've been palpable, because Hiei's hand closed over her knee, his fingers curving across her skin. He squeezed once. "There'll be no mistakes. We'll end this."

Despite the erratic beat of her heart, she found herself nodding. "We have to."

And they did.

Because Nomi's time was running out. His body was frail, too beaten down to withstand the Shell much longer. In truth, even a week might be too long.

Hiei's grip tightened, and when he spoke, each word fell from his lips like shards of glass, tripping from his tongue as if he couldn't get them out fast enough. "I'm going to tell her."

Her.

It could have meant anyone. With another man, she might have thought he was speaking of some former—or perhaps not so former—lover. Or he could be referencing his former boss. The infamous Mukuro.

But she knew he meant neither.

With Hiei, there was only one her.

 _Yukina_.

"That you're her brother?"

"Hn."

Perhaps it should've surprised her. The words certainly seemed to have startled him. But somehow, it didn't strike her as the revelation he'd thought it was.

"Good." With painstaking slowness, she entangled her fingers with his and drew his hand into lap. Gently, she traced her thumb across his palm, letting her nail catch in each groove and crease, studying the latticework of fine scars crisscrossing his skin. "She deserves to know."

Maybe she should have asked questions. Why had he hidden himself from Yukina to begin with? What had changed his mind? But he hadn't seem to have told her because he wanted to discuss his choice. Rather, he'd brought it up to make it real. In sharing his decision with her, he'd given it true life.

After all, if she knew anything about Hiei, it was that his word was binding. Now that he'd told her his intentions, his pride wouldn't let him back out of them.

His fingers flexed around hers, curling over her thumb and stilling its motion. "It's selfish," he growled with a curt toss of his head. "Telling her isn't a gift. It won't be the answer she wants. She'd be happier never knowing."

"That's not true—"

"It is," he snarled. "I'm not fool enough to think otherwise. But she must know. I intend to win this war, to kill Masaru and Taku and every last one of their soldiers, but if I fail—if _we_ fail—then I don't want the truth to die with me." He swung his gaze toward her, his crimson eyes blazing. "I won't let her spend the rest of her life searching in vain."

The rest he left unsaid, but the pieces hung between them. This decision was because of _her_ —because of Kalanie. She hadn't meant it to be. She'd never thought to change his intentions toward Yukina. Yet she had. Or perhaps, more correctly, Nomi had.

That much she could see.

His jaw flexed, his teeth grinding together as he glared at their conjoined hands. "There's more."

Of course there was. Nothing was ever simple. Not in her life.

"Whatever this is," he said, raising their hands with a tug of his wrist, "can't continue. Not like this. I won't walk down this path as we are. I can't live in constant vigilance over any accidental word, any ill-thought phrase. I won't risk compelling you inadvertently."

Her stomach bottomed out, panic clawing into her chest. She should've seen this coming. Yesterday, she'd caught him off-guard. He'd been exhausted, too bewildered by her advances to turn them away, too swept up in the moment to realize his own disgust.

Now he'd returned to his right mind.

It shouldn't have been a surprise.

She sank her teeth into her lip and released his fingers, attempting to withdraw her hand, but his callused grip held firm.

"Stop—" He spat a curse, scoffing derisively as he shifted toward her, his hold on her keeping her close. "I want you, Kalanie. And I _will_ have you." The low thrum of his voice deepened further, his incisors flashing. "But not now. Not while you still wear your chains. Not when I stand at their other end."

She heard him as if at a great distance, his meaning sinking slowly past the roaring in her ears. He hadn't said what she'd expected. He hadn't pushed her away—at least, not forever.

His free hand rose, cradling her neck, his thumb tipping her chin upward. He kissed her hungrily, like a demon starved near to death. How long it lasted, she couldn't say, but it certainly wasn't long enough, and as he broke away, she leaned forward, trying to follow.

He held her at bay. "Even now, half the things I'd like to say would ruin this. One misstep and I'll compel you."

She sucked down a ragged breath. "But you won't have meant it. I know that. And I won't hold it against you."

Even as she uttered the words, the truth in them caught her off-guard. Two days ago, she railed against the idea of Hiei compelling her. She'd _attacked_ him for it. But she knew better now. He'd never wield his influence over her intentionally. He—

"Hn. You misunderstand." He shoulders thudded back against the wall. "Yes, the idea of manipulating you disgusts me. I abhor the very prospect. But that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

He answered with fierce intensity, his words sharp as knives. "I've gone over our conversation yesterday a dozen times, trying to confirm I never uttered a word to influence you, trying to be sure you kissed me out of choice, not because I willed it. Perhaps that's absurd. And yet, even now, I'm running through everything I said, looking for which misbegotten sentence compelled you." His fingers constricted almost painfully on hers. "It'll drive me insane, continuing on like this."

"Then don't. Stop dwelling on it." She rose on her knees, lifting her free hand to his cheek. "You didn't compel me. I chose this. I _want_ this."

"Do you? How can I ever be sure?"

"Because you know what you said. _I_ know what you said. There were no compulsions—"

"But what if I slip up?" At last—now that she least wanted him to—he released her hand and pulled free. In a beat, he was on his feet. "I won't allow it."

"Hiei, stop. Please."

But he didn't waver, and as he strode for the door, she realized he'd long since made up his mind. This explanation had been a courtesy, not an opportunity for debate. No amount of pleading would change his choice now.

"As long as you bear the Sovereign Binds, this is over," he said, head held high, eyes crackling with the same heat that had lived inside her for weeks—the scorching, stubborn essence of who he was. "I'll fight with you, I'll protect your mind, but nothing more."

Without another word, he swept into the hall. The door rattled shut at his back. His absence left her hollow. Utterly vanquished. And yet, despite everything, she couldn't bring herself to chase after him, because in the end, he was right. As long as the Binds were inked across her skin, she wasn't free. Not of Masaru. Not of Hiei. Her choices could be overruled with a handful of words, batted away like trivial nonsense.

Sinking sideways onto the bed, she thought again of Yukina and her conviction that Kalanie could still change, that she could meld her future into what she wanted it to be rather than whatever hell Masaru dictated for her. Inarguably, that future had to contain Nomi, but there was a place for Hiei in it, too.

She'd carve it out herself if she had to.

Which meant it was time to fight. For Hiei. For Nomi.

And—most of all—for herself.

For Kalanie.

* * *

AN: Oh man, this chapter was hard. It was the first written since I worked on revision for my original novel and getting back into Kalanie's head was strangely difficult. But I think I like how it's turned out. I hope you all do, too!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I received the most reviews yet, and it was a delight hearing from you all.


	25. Screw Your Courage to the Sticking Place

Kurama's strategy talks proved more like war council meetings than mere planning sessions, and when Kalanie slipped into the meeting room the next morning, she found its cushions packed with the hundreds of allies Yusuke had encountered over the years, the lot crossing between the worlds and crawling out of the woodwork in numbers she could hardly fathom. Every demon he'd earned the loyalty of. Every former enemy whose respect he'd garnered. Every fighter who wished to see a return to the time before the Fall.

There were the usual suspects. The former spirit detectives. Their women. Genkai. The ragtag gang of demons who protected the shrine—Jin and Touya, Chu and Rinku, and all the others.

But then there were the faces Kalanie never would've imagined sharing a room with. Yomi. The deceased Lord Raizen's surviving friends. Koenma. Soldiers from Spirit World's Defense Force. Even Mukuro, stripped of her old title yet still one of the strongest demons to ever walk the demon planes.

By the third day of planning, their numbers had swelled beyond the meeting room's occupancy limits, and rather than cramming within the temple's walls, they spilled into the yard beyond, arraying across the grass like a true legion of soldiers.

Through it all, Kalanie remained an observer, watching without interfering. Their strategizing was beyond her, Kurama's quick wit matched by Yomi and Raizen's friends at a level she couldn't hope to achieve. Instead of participating, she hunkered at Kuwabara's side, listening and learning and hoping they proceeded swiftly enough to make a difference, that these talks would coalesce into action before Nomi's clock expired.

At times, Kuwabara tossed an elbow her way, urging her to speak up, muttering that she had the answers Kurama needed. But just as often, Hiei would stand, detailing in quick, clinical terms whatever pertinent information she'd gathered during her time as Masaru's captive, and Kuwabara would cease his prodding.

The anonymity served her well. It was what she wanted.

Because she wasn't like the detectives. She wasn't a hero. She didn't want to be one. Her goal was singular—be a foot soldier. Serve in this war, in the battles looming on the horizon. Fight her way to Nomi.

By whatever means necessary.

To that end, Kurama planned two strikes. The first would hit the Wailing Waters, the largest encampment of puppets other than the one in the Woods of War. It was intended to be a slaughter, a brute implementation of force that would squelch Taku's fighters out of existence.

But more than that, it would lay the groundwork for their second attack, a two-pronged assault on Taku's fortress and the facility that housed the Shells. With the army at the Wailing Waters destroyed, Taku's reinforcements would be cut off.

He'd be weakened.

Vulnerable.

That was how they'd end this. A final battle to eliminate the puppeteers. One in which they threw every last resource on the line. There'd be no holding back, no second chances if they failed.

Now was the time to strike. Before Masaru scrounged up a replacement for Nomi. Before Taku had a means to bring down the temple. No more delaying. No more strategizing.

There was just this moment. These fights. And whatever future came after.

* * *

They launched their attack on the Wailing Waters at dawn, amassing outside the temple and awaiting a portal to Demon World.

Per Kurama's instructions, Kuwabara and Genkai would remain behind, commanding a squadron of Spirit Defense Force operatives loaned to them from Koenma. They'd keep the temple compound protected, no matter what occurred at the Wailing Waters. The humans and apparitions who'd gathered in the mountains would remain safe.

Which meant their army had no distractions.

As Kuwabara tore a hole between the worlds, Yusuke threw up a war cry. His aura spiked across his skin, demon and spirit energy alike spiraling skyward. Then he was gone, leaping into the portal and disappearing in a handful of heartbeats.

The rest of their forces streamed after him. Yomi and Mukuro first. Then Jin and the lot who'd been unassigned under his command. One after another, demons flickered out of existence, off to war. Off to bloodshed.

Off to victory.

Hiei and Kalanie moved last of all, waiting a handful of tense moments while Kurama gathered a lay of the battle and conveyed it back to Hiei. It was a compromise—one Kurama had insisted on. He'd wanted to confirm whether Masaru would be present, arguing a second's forewarning might be key in Hiei staving off potential fresh compulsions. Overly cautious, certainly, but a minor acquiescence in the grand scheme of things.

Still, when Hiei at last jumped through the portal, Kalanie was all too eager to follow. Iron coated her skin, forming flowing armor brought to life across her flesh and trailing in her wake as Demon World materialized beneath her feet. More steel pooled in her hands, ready to form swords or throwing stars or any manner of weapon.

The battle already raged, Yusuke's forces fanning out from the portal. They held firm lines, an ever-expanding circle spreading through the puppeteers' encampment. A quick appraisal was enough to show the puppets were already failing, their inferior abilities faltering before her allies' brutal onslaught.

Good.

But not enough.

Not yet.

In a blur of black, Hiei assumed a position to Kurama's left. His katana flashed, sheering through puppets like they were little more than dust, and he fell into rhythm with the fox, his blade and Kurama's whip striking in tandem.

Masaru wasn't here—that much Kalanie processed instantly—and she threw herself into the fight with abandon, confident in her continued independence. Her iron shifted into twin blades, and she wielded them with deadly accuracy, protecting Hiei's right flank just as Kurama guarded his left.

The world boiled down to nothing but the weight of her swords, the clank and screech of her parries and thrusts, the reek of blood and innards and death. In some distant part of herself, she recognized these puppets weren't the enemy, not truly. They were victims, just as she had been—just as she still was—but victory lay in their destruction, and sparing them now saved no one, not even them.

Yet in a lull between enemies, her focus changed. She snuck a glance across the muddied battlefield, spotting Yusuke pummeling his way through a knot of puppets and overlooking Mukuro ravaging a score of opponents, searching and searching until at last she found the puppeteers assigned to this hellpit.

They'd hunkered beyond a sea of puppets. No doubt they were content to let their minions die, every last one falling before this assault, and even then, she imagined they'd rather run than fight. After all, what were puppeteers if not cowards? In all likelihood, only orders from Taku had kept them here in the first place. They'd probably bolt any moment.

Time, then, to take the fight to them— _before_ they made good on an attempt to escape.

Over the clash of battle, she whistled, catching first Hiei's and then Kurama's attention. They followed her line of sight. As understanding lit in his eyes, Hiei's lips curled into a vicious smirk and he barked a command to Rinku, ordering the demon to hold the line. Then he charged forward, his energy crackling across his fists.

Kalanie gave chase, falling in beside Kurama. Now it was her blades striking in sync with his rose whip, their movements coordinating in a bloody dance as they carved a path through the puppets, incapacitating demon after demon.

Then they were there, bursting past the puppeteers' last line of defense, cutting through a final swathe of puppets. For a time, she lost herself to her bloodlust, so consumed by her hatred that she hardly noticed the change sweeping across the battlefield.

In the end, it took Hiei to make her aware. He signaled with his katana, indicating the swarms of puppets still mired in battle—except they weren't anymore, at least not entirely. All around, puppets had begun to falter, their resistance giving way. Many surrendered, collapsing to their knees in the mud, but many more kept up the fight, not against Yusuke or the others, but against the _puppeteers_.

The truth dawned on her slowly, filtering past the frenzied haze of adrenaline and rage that had fueled her, but she realized it all the same.

As the puppeteers bled out into the Wailing Waters' murky streams, the Sovereign Binds they'd created were breaking, fading from existence link by link, chain by chain. And with each broken Bind, the puppets returned to themselves. Their compulsions weakened. Their will returned.

At long last, they became _free_.

* * *

Yusuke stoked the bonfire to fresh heights, tossing three logs into the roaring flames, then settled in the dirt, looped an arm around Keiko's waist, and raised a beer toward the night sky. "Cheers, you stubborn bastards. It's been a damn honor fighting with you. Try not to die tomorrow, would you?"

Around the fire, beers rose in a chorus.

Whether Botan's cheeks were rosy from the flames' heat or the liquor in her system, Kalanie couldn't be sure, but she suspected the latter as the ferry girl whistled noisily. "Hear! Hear!"

Yusuke's grin turned sly. "Well now, Botan, I wasn't counting _you_ in the fighting bit… Unless you think swinging that baseball bat of yours around counts for something."

Exasperation twisted Botan's lips into a frown. "Excuse you, Yusuke Urameshi! I've saved your butt plenty of times."

Just like that they were lost, devolving into an argument that seemed utterly pointless and yet so completely _them_ all at once. Nursing her own beer, Kalanie watched beneath her bangs as Botan thwacked Yusuke's shoulder with an oar she'd summoned from thin air. He roared with laughter and quickly wrangled Botan to his side, his free arm twining around her neck in a headlock, his knuckles ruffling her hair. Botan's indignant struggle only deepened Yusuke's rumbling laughter.

At Kalanie's side, Kurama took a long draught of his drink before murmuring, "I've known Yusuke for years now. Somehow, he's never changed. He's still the same hard-nosed punk he was at fourteen. And yet, by the same token, he's entirely different."

"He's not what I expected, I'll give you that."

Kurama quirked a brow. "Oh?"

"None of you are." Kalanie drew her knees in to her chest and propped her chin atop them. "I couldn't be more glad for it."

The smile that danced at the corner of Kurama's lips was the first she'd seen from him in days. Of everyone gathered around the fire, he seemed to wear the burden of tomorrow's fight most heavily—second perhaps only to her and her desperate need to rescue Nomi. Though Yusuke would be their leader on the field, his brash bravado doubled as a stubborn shield against worry, and it hadn't been his intellect that had crafted their battle strategy.

That duty had fallen to Kurama's sharp mind, and while his plans were brilliant, there was no way to be sure they'd deliver on their promised genius. Not until the fight was already won.

And that was easier said than done.

She clinked her bottle against the neck of his and changed the subject, hoping to keep their tone light-hearted. "You were wrong about the beer. Last time I found you at one of these fires, you said we were drinking the last case. Thank the Spirit World gods for small miracles, huh?"

He chuckled. "Thank _Kuwabara_ , more accurately. Apparently he'd stowed a haul away, saving it for this night."

"Why _this_ night?"

Another soft laugh. " _This night_ as in the final one before the war's end. Live or die, tomorrow this is over. There might never be another night like this. Not for us. Even if we win, we might not all make it home."

Well, not the cheerful topic she'd hoped for.

A chill trembled down her spine, and not even a swig of beer could stave off the ice settling in her bones. Swallowing down the knot risen in her throat, she peered around the bonfire, soaking it all in. Yusuke and Botan still huddled together, their fake squabble now subsided. Keiko tucked against the half-breed's other side. Kuwabara cuddled with Yukina, murmuring gently in her ear. Genkai and Shizuru knocking back shots of some unidentifiable homebrew.

And last of all, directly across from her in the circle, Hiei. He'd not said a word for hours, but she'd felt his near constant attention. Even now he was studying her, his elbows braced atop his knees, his beer hanging from loose fingers.

They'd shared barely a word since he'd left her room nearly a week before. It seemed his vow of _nothing more_ had been strictly factual. Other than the brief moment while they waited for Kurama's signal to join the battle at the Wailing Waters, she hadn't even been alone with him.

Yet there he sat. Watching. Waiting.

Heart in her throat, she lifted her bottle and tipped it toward him, offering the barest glimmer of a smile. His eyes narrowed, reflecting the firelight like garnets, but slowly his own drink rose. A silent toast. A wordless promise.

Kurama remained at her side a while longer, muttering wry commentary in soft undertones before drifting off to a cluster of demons along the trees' edge. Kalanie spotted Yomi amongst them, and soon Kurama was engaged with him, discussing the upcoming battle or their complicated history or the gods knew what else.

The whole clearing was clogged with their makeshift army, demons and psychics and Spirit Defense Force soldiers milling together on this final night before it all ended—one way or the other. Some nursed beers, others had the Demon World swill she'd grown up drinking, and Chu had even managed to steal himself a handle of Genkai's moonshine.

Over the thrum of their voices, a radio played, blasting loud, tinny music into the night, and she watched in disbelief as Jin inserted himself between Genkai and Shizuru and hauled the human girl to her feet. A moment later, he swept her onto an open swathe of grass and goaded her into dancing. Before long, others began to join.

Movement across the fire drew her gaze back through the flames. Hiei had shoved himself upright, brushing off his pants with rough, unsteady motions. His bottle remained in the dirt, knocked on its side, beer dribbling from its mouth, but he paid it no mind as he stalked toward Kuwabara and Yukina.

Over a sudden bark of Yusuke's laughter, Kalanie couldn't make out Hiei's voice, but then Yukina was rising, Hiei's callused hand sliding around hers. His shoulders locked tight as stone, he steered her toward the forest, leaving Kuwabara gawking in his wake.

Staving off a grin, Kalanie scooted to Kuwabara's side. Ages ago, Hiei had told her Kuwabara knew nothing of his relationship to Yukina, but if Hiei was off to have the conversation she anticipated he was, then she doubted that would stay true for long.

"Might want to close your mouth," she said, elbowing him lightly in the side, "or else some insect might take up residence."

His jaw shut with an audible clack. "What the hell does the shrimp want with Yukina?"

"I imagine you'll find out if you're meant to."

Judging by the deep creases on his forehead, that wasn't the answer he was looking for.

She drained the last of her beer, then set the bottle aside and jostled his shoulder. "They'll come back. Let them have their moment. I think they need it."

He still seemed unsatisfied, frowning at the thicket of trees where Hiei and Yukina had disappeared, and she left him to his moment, letting the fire draw her in instead. Its roaring flames warmed her cheeks as an updraft carried sparks spiraling toward the stars. They danced and sputtered, tiny pinpricks against the dark, mesmerizing and beautiful one second, then gone the next, their heat and light dissipating, their energy consumed.

A pair of slippered feet stirred up dust at her side, announcing Genkai's arrival. Sighing, the old woman sank cross-legged onto the ground and shoved a fresh beer into Kalanie's hands. "The dimwit left a key piece out of that bullshit he called a toast."

With a flick of her energy, Kalanie manipulated the iron in the bottle's cap and tugged it free. A cloud of cold air wafted from the beer's long neck. "And what would that be?"

"You."

She nearly choked on her first sip. "Come again?"

"He left out you, girl. Without you, we'd still be scrounging around like a bunch of fools, struggling to find leads, desperately clinging to what little Demon World territory we still controlled. We'd be _losing_."

Kalanie shook her head. "You're giving me far too much credit."

"Am I?" Genkai scoffed. "Don't be modest. Doesn't suit you."

"Then perhaps you shouldn't spout nonsense."

"Genkai's right," Kuwabara said, looking away from the woods at last. "You saved our asses."

"Like hell—"

"Don't argue." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Maybe the rumors you were hearing before you found this place said otherwise, but before you, we were hardly holding it together. We didn't understand the Sovereign Binds. We didn't know about the Shell. We definitely didn't know about your brother. And that's saying nothing of the fact that you _spied_ for us, directly inside Taku's base of operations."

Genkai's usually gruff tone softened a notch. "This whole army… It exists because of you, Kalanie. Your information gave Yusuke the leverage needed to stoke Yomi and Mukuro and all the others back to the offensive." She huffed a snort, sucked her beer dry, and stood. "For fear that you'll think I'm getting soft in my old age, I won't say this again, but thank you, Kalanie. No matter what outcome befalls us tomorrow, _thank you._ "

As the psychic walked off, her hands clasped behind her back, Kuwabara thrust his beer toward the heavens. "Damn straight."

No.

They were wrong.

No one owed her thanks. For years now, she'd been nothing but a tool, a puppet dancing on someone else's strings, a dog on a chain. When her leash had been in Masaru's hands, she'd helped bring about the end of the worlds. She'd helped wrought the Fall. Once she wiggled free, she dragged that leash with her to this temple, and all she'd done since had been atonement, haphazard labors to wash the blood from her hands.

Not behavior worthy of gratitude.

"Hey." Kuwabara swiped a palm in front of her eyes. "Earth to Kalanie."

She swatted his hand away.

He grinned. "Someday you'll get it. You're stubborn as all get out. Heck maybe even more stubborn than Hiei. And you walk around with an even bigger chip on your shoulder than he does. But I promise you, if we succeed tomorrow, it's because of you as much as anyone else. More than, really."

"Enough."

"Fine. For now. But after this is all over, I'm going to remind you. Again and again and again. Until you see the truth. Until you see yourself for who you really are."

Her fingers curled tight around her bottle, every groove and bump in the glass pressing into her skin. "Then promise me something else, too."

Kuwabara cocked his head. "Shoot."

"If I don't come back tomorrow, if Masaru captures me or I'm killed or some other hell claims me, promise you'll look after my brother."

He pressed his lips so thin his blood leeched away. "That's not going to happen."

"But if it does, promise me."

"It won't, Kalanie. And even if it did, then Nomi wouldn't be here for me to protect. If you don't make it back—"

"My brother still will." Sucking down a steadying breath, she stared into the bonfire. It had been a while since Yusuke fed it fresh logs, and the fire had begun to burn down, but blue flames still licked the wood at its center, burning hotter than all the rest. If this fire was the army amassed at the shrine, then those blue flames were Hiei. Steady. Unrelenting.

A heat that had consumed her whole world.

As if she'd summoned him, Hiei emerged from the forest, Yukina at his side. The ice apparition looked at him in wonder, her hand looped around his, just as it had been when they'd left. No disgust clouded her pretty features. No disappointment marred her bright smile.

She was _happy_. Plain and simple.

Kalanie tipped her head toward them. "Yukina's back."

Kuwabara's gaze flicked toward the pair, but quickly returned to Kalanie. "Explain. You're not distracting me. How can you be sure Nomi will be here if you aren't?"

"Hiei will save him."

The truth. As plain and simple as Yukina's happiness. If she failed to rescue Nomi, Hiei would succeed in her stead. She knew it in her bones, in the very fabric of her soul.

Maybe she'd fall tomorrow. Maybe Masaru would overcome her. But either way, Nomi would still be free. Hiei would see to that.

"So promise me," she said. "Promise to look after him if I can't. Promise that he'll have a home. Promise he'll have a life and a family and people who love him."

For a perilous, tense moment, Kuwabara remained still, his dark eyes narrowed, his brow creased. Then he nodded, one bob of his chin all the guarantee she needed. Only he didn't stop there. Instead, he raised a hand, his fingers curled inward, his knuckles exposed. She answered in kind.

A fist bump.

The most important they'd ever shared.

Then Yukina was at their side, her hand still clutching Hiei's. Kalanie hardly heard a word she said, though she knew what Yukina was about to reveal.

She eased to her feet. They needed a moment alone, this new family of three. Tomorrow, war waited. But for now, they deserved a chance to work out the implications of this secret Hiei had once held so close. Though judging by the stunned pallor in Kuwabara's cheeks, he might need longer than night to accept his new brother.

But before she left, Kalanie caught Hiei's free wrist, her fingers grazing across his blazing flesh. "Find me later, if you can spare a second."

"Hn."

* * *

The night had settled by the time Hiei joined her on the porch.

Most of their forces had drifted off to bed, but she'd caught Kurama cloistered in the meeting room, still deep in strategy talks with leaders of their various battalions. Ever the pragmatist, that fox.

"You ready for tomorrow?" she asked, her voice drifting across the empty clearing. Even the forest's insects had fallen silent, as if they, too, knew what waited come dawn. In the quiet, she wondered if Hiei could hear the drumming of her heart.

"Hn. Are you?"

"As I'll ever be."

Glaring toward the trees, he braced his elbows on his knees. The motion pressed his arm to hers, the corded steel of his bicep scorching with his ever-present heat. Despite his promise of distance, when she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder, he didn't pull away.

"I wanted you to know that I think you made the right choice," she whispered into the darkness. "About us, I mean. Not because of the compulsions, but because of something you said a long time ago."

She felt, rather than saw, his head shift toward her. His lips brushed the crown of her head, but he remained silent. Waiting. Letting answers to his unspoken questions arise on their own.

"You said you didn't want to be my distraction, my way of forgetting about my brother and the hell he's in and my inability to save him. And that's not what this has been. Not for a long time." She almost laughed, but it caught in her throat and she didn't try to work it free. "You're very distracting, Hiei Jaganshi, but you're not _a_ distraction."

"Kalanie—"

She sat up and sealed a finger over his mouth. "No, let me finish."

But more words didn't come. Not right away.

Her hand traced along his jaw, committing every last detail of him to memory. An image of him had once helped pull her from the dark, and though she prayed she'd never need saving again, she wanted to be sure he'd be there in the shadows with her—in memory if nothing else.

"You're not a distraction," she whispered at last. "But I'm distracted. Without—" Nomi's name tripped on her tongue, still forbidden, even after all this time. Gritting her teeth, she started again. "Without my brother, I'm not all here. And us… Whatever we are or could be…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I need to put all this behind me. Save my brother. Kill Masaru. Then maybe I can figure out who I am now. Then I'll be here— _all_ of me, not whatever pieces I've cobbled together."

Hiei's answer came without words. He offered no grand acceptance, no beautifully phrased declarations. Instead, he drew her closer, one hand twining into her hair, the other curling like a brand against her cheek.

His kiss started gentle. Tentative and probing. Uncertain. But as she twined her arms around his neck, he grew more insistent. Hungry and desperate. He kissed her like wildfire consumed a forest, burning her up, setting her ablaze.

She was all too happy to burn.

* * *

AN: We've truly reached the beginning of the end. There's not much farther to go, but at the same time, there's plenty to wrap up. I hope you'll all enjoy the ending as much as you've enjoyed the ride to get here!

If there's one thing I wish I could have done more in this story it's showing Kalanie's relationship with the entirety of the gang. I've tried to highlight Kuwabara where I can. Kurama and Yukina, too. But I didn't get to do nearly enough with Yusuke or Keiko or Botan or Genkai. I love all these characters so much, and I'd love to play around with them forever, but in the interest of actually finishing this story, I had to draw a line somewhere. Alas.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You guys rock!


	26. We Rise and We Fall and We Break

The noonday sun limned the Woods of War in gold as Kalanie leapt from the portal. She landed silently, her knees bent to cushion the impact. A heartbeat later, Hiei materialized at her side, his cloak swirling.

A breeze rustled through the leaves overhead, setting the branches dancing like a sea of flames, red and orange foliage whispering like the forbearers of war. Beyond the wind's murmur, silence had settled over the underbrush, a lull seizing the creatures that inhabited the forest's dark nooks and hidden crannies.

Perhaps woodland fauna sensed Yusuke and his army half-a-day's run away. Perhaps Kalanie and Hiei had been enough to startle them into concealment. Or perhaps there was something in the air, some tension in the very fabric of the worlds themselves, some signal that today would decide the future of not just Kalanie or Nomi or Hiei, but of every being in the three worlds.

The truth of that certainty had nestled in her chest for hours. It had kept her up long after Hiei had bid her good night, and it had been the first thought to greet her when she woke just after dawn.

If the same realization haunted Hiei, he didn't show it.

One hand on the hilt of his katana, he surveyed the glen they'd landed in. She could practically see the calculations running behind his cunning eyes, and as the portal flickered out of existence at her back, he jerked his chin as if he'd confirmed something then shifted his attention east.

"We're ten miles from the facility. The oaf actually delivered on his promise."

"You don't give Kuwabara enough credit."

"Hn." Hiei glanced sidelong at her, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I've fought with him for six years. I give him precisely the credit he's earned."

The anxiety twining through her ribs kept her from summoning a smile of her own, and she dipped her head to avoid his gaze, focusing instead on her iron gloves. With a press of energy, she urged the steel coating her fingers to peel back.

Black ink waited beneath. It stained her skin dark as midnight, a noxious poison that sunk through her flesh and dug hooks into her soul. But not for much longer. One way or another, she wouldn't bear these marks come tomorrow. By her death or Masaru's, the Sovereign Binds would run their course.

She'd accept nothing else.

"Ready?"

Iron rolled back over her fingers. She looked up. "Lead on."

Their orders from Kurama were clear, cut like perfect crystal. Raid the facility holding the Shells. Kill its guards. Slay its puppeteers. Save Nomi.

Compared to the objective laid before Yusuke and his forces, their task was simple. The research facility was unguarded, and a sweep of Hiei's Jagan confirmed only a dozen puppets served as sentries in the Woods of War. This was no siege on Taku's fortress. That job had been left to Yusuke.

In under an hour, the half-breed would lead a charge against the stronghold where Masaru had held Kalanie captive. Yomi and Mukuro would be at his side, the rest of their forces a step behind.

Kurama intended to utilize the weakness she's spotted weeks ago—the arched exit from the fortress's inner courtyard. If they hit it hard enough, fast enough, Taku's puppet army would be trapped within, bottlenecked in that too narrow archway. Yusuke would be able to pick them apart, he and his fighters swapping out for fresh reinforcements as needed, the puppets' ability to reach them sorely limited by the confines of the very same wall meant to protect them.

Not a fair fight. Not by any means.

But then, since when had Taku fought fair?

In the end, it wouldn't matter anyway. Yusuke's fate was independent from hers now. Everything Kalanie cared about was here, in this quiet stretch of forest, far to the east of Taku's stronghold.

Nomi.

Hiei.

Masaru.

Whatever fate awaited her would be sealed long before their distant allies might reach this place. If she wanted to save Nomi, she couldn't count on back up. His rescuer would be her or Hiei or no one at all.

They would have to be enough.

* * *

The guard stood at attention, his hulking frame occupying the cramped space between the tree trunks. The bright sunlight burnished his leathery scales. It granted him the appearance of armor, as if his flesh was formed of molten bronze not unlike the iron flowing across Kalanie's arms.

But those scales did little to block Hiei's katana.

The blade sheared through the puppet's throat, severing his jugular in a single fluid stroke. A breath later, the demon tumbled to his knees then slumped into the dirt.

He was dead in seconds.

Kalanie and Hiei moved on.

* * *

Hiei traced the next puppet into a glade, and they snuck upon the woman as she clambered from a tree. No doubt she'd been surveying the surrounding territory, performing some menial appraisal in conjunction with one of Masaru's flippant whims.

Too bad she hadn't spotted her death in time.

Fast as a lightning strike, Kalanie gutted her, dragging a knife up from her navel. The iron cleaved through her chest, carving her in two. A death's rattle burbled from the puppet's lips, and Kalanie jerked her iron free as the demon went still.

With a quiet grunt, Hiei melded back into the trees. Kalanie followed.

Not once did she look back.

* * *

Seven more puppets fell in quick succession.

Blood coated Hiei's katana from hilt to tip, a crimson stain that dripped across his fingers and marred the crisp bandages obscuring his dragon. Behind them, three daggers already lay abandoned in the underbrush, their iron half-rusted, weakened beneath the insatiable pull of Kalanie's energy, but she clutched a fourth, its sharp edge newly forged.

Only three guards remained.

They'd be gone soon enough.

By now, Masaru must've realized his puppets were dying. With each one that passed on to Spirit World, shreds of his power would return to him. The bits he'd stowed in the Sovereign Binds might not amount to much individually, but the return of nine puppets' worth would be noticeable.

Which meant there was no time to waste. The quicker the last guards were dead, the quicker they could make their move on the facility.

It was that thought that kept Kalanie dogged at Hiei's heels, trailing his blurred afterimage through the trees. Three more targets. Then Masaru.

And Nomi.

And freedom.

* * *

Crouched behind the trunk of a broad tree, Hiei hissed, "The one on the left is yours. I'll handle the other two."

Frowning, Kalanie studied the target he'd assigned her. "These three are stronger than the others. And alert. Masaru must've warned them."

"Hn. Too little. Too late."

She gripped her knife tighter. "As soon as they're dead, break for the facility. We need to get my brother before Masaru mobilizes any secondary forces nearby."

"I know the plan."

Of course he did, but repeating it stilled the trembles in her fingers. It gave her purpose, reminded her of their immediate goals. They were close now. So close. But it could all still fall apart. She wasn't fool enough to think otherwise.

"After you," she whispered.

Hiei cast her one final look, his eyes blazing. With rage. With the cold, calculated killing calm of a warrior born to battle. But with something else, too. Something meant just for her. If not for the blood splattered across his cheek and crusted over his arms, she might have thought it affection.

But affection had no place here. Not in these death-riddled woods.

Yet he reached for her, his bloodied knuckles grazing her gloved wrist. Then his jaw flexed, his focus darting back toward the trio of puppets.

Nearly too fast for her to follow, Hiei streaked from their hiding place, his katana singing as he brought it sweeping downward. The cut should've been a clean, killing blow, but at the last second, his target sidestepped, swinging up an arm and catching the blade. It deflected off the puppet's forearm, screeching against what might've been stone rather than flesh.

Her own weapon clutched tight, Kalanie surged from the underbrush. Her heart beat like a war drum, raging in her temples as she collided with her assignment. Claws sprouted from the woman's hands, bursting from her knuckles. They gleamed like steel, and sparks flew as Kalanie's dagger skidded across their curves.

Hiei was a blur of black. He flickered through the clearing, battering against his targets in an unrelenting torrent of attacks, but they fended him off at every turn. Each seemed armored, their bodies hewn from stone instead of flesh and blood.

Kalanie's puppet took a different tactic. While her companions fought defensively, staving off Hiei's blows with dogged endurance, the clawed demon launched a vicious onslaught of her own. Kalanie fell back before it, her dagger quickly giving way to rust as she drew on its power to reinforce her arms and hold the puppet at bay.

In a battle of brute strength, Kalanie would never win. Between her considerable size advantage and the compulsions driving her muscles, the puppet would overpower her sooner than later.

So a change of plan was in order.

Ducking the puppet's claws, Kalanie bolted into the trees. In the open, size and strength was a benefit, but in the sun-dappled undergrowth, quickness proved far more valuable.

Kalanie tossed aside her rusted dagger, and as she wove deeper between the trunks, she willed a new blade to take shape. Her iron armor was wearing thin, too much of it used to craft her weapons, but it would be enough for now—for this last death.

Ducking beneath a low hanging branch, she whirled back, her knife raised. The puppet wasn't ready. Her footing slipped in the rotting leaves. She stumbled and threw out a hand to halt her fall. Her claws raked across a tree, their vicious points imbedded in the oak. She snarled and jerked free—but it was too late. Kalanie thrust her dagger deep, sliding it deftly between the puppet's ribs.

A scream echoed through the forest. Piercing. Desperate. But as Kalanie stepped back, the woman's wails gave way to whimpers. She thudded to her knees, her claws withdrawing back into her knuckles.

Blood bubbled at the corner of her lips as she stared up at Kalanie. Her eyes fluttered shut, then flickered open once more. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice all but carried away on a breeze.

Kalanie winced. "Don't thank me. Just go. Find peace in Spirit World."

The ghost of a smile brightened the demon's face, but quick as it came, it faded. Torment replaced it. The puppet bucked her head, her gaze roving wildly beyond Kalanie's shoulder. "You—" A gurgling cough interrupted her.

Gritting her teeth, Kalanie readied her dagger. This was too much. Too cruel. She knelt, preparing to slit the demon's throat and end her misery, but the puppet caught her wrist. "Go. Run!"

Kalanie heard it then, the thunder of footsteps, the cracking of twigs and crunching of leaves. Intruders. More guards? Had Masaru already summoned reinforcements?

She lurched upright, twisting back toward the clearing where she'd left Hiei, but she discovered the path blocked, half-a-dozen puppets arrayed amongst the trees. Their energy signals were weak. Far weaker than hers. But six was too many for her to take at once. She lacked Hiei's speed, and even her best attacks paled next to the breadth of damage his could inflict.

She staggered back. Her heel caught on the woman she'd felled, and Kalanie tumbled.

At once, the puppets advanced. Sovereign Binds wove across their outstretched arms, black as death. Cursing, Kalanie shoved to her feet and ran. Branches whipped past, clawing at her exposed flesh, and the brushwood tangled around her ankles, seeking to trip her, to yank her balance away and send her sprawling.

She pushed harder. Fast as she could. Sprinting and sprinting in a bid to outrace her pursuers.

If she could lose them, even for a moment, she could circle back toward Hiei. Together, they could stave off any number of puppets—or so she had to believe.

But where had these new enemies come from? Hiei had swept the woods with his Jagan, and Kalanie had confirmed his conclusions with a check of her own. Only a dozen guards had been close. Had she used her senses only, she might've believed she could miss a handful of low-class demons, but the Jagan wasn't so easily duped.

So how? How had Masaru done it?

Somewhere in her wake, Hiei's energy spiked. Perhaps he'd realized she'd gone missing. Or perhaps Masaru had besieged him with puppets, too. Either way, he was beyond her reach.

Gritting her teeth, Kalanie pressed her legs to new limits, ignoring the screaming burn in her thighs and calves. Her path drew her west—away from not just Hiei, but the Shells' facility as well. In theory, Masaru would be safely housed inside its walls, but her gut told her that wasn't the case.

He wasn't one to wait. He didn't enjoy sitting back and twiddling his thumbs. Not when the object of his desire was close at hand. And if the puppets swarming through the trees were anything to go by, he must not be far off.

Their numbers had swelled to a full dozen now, and they herded her like a sheep dragged in fresh for the slaughter. As she rounded the sprawling root system of a massive tree, a snake demon burst from the underbrush, his scaled hands grabbing for her. Snarling, she slashed her knife across his outstretched wrists. The steel shredded through his Sovereign Binds, but he carried on nonetheless, lurching after her as she spun and ran anew.

Diverging from Hiei had been an error. A mistake. One she might pay for dearly.

She should've fought her way to him, inferior numbers be damned. He'd been her safety net. Yet like a fool, she'd let the puppets divert her, and now she was vulnerable, an all too easy target for Masaru to control.

Golden sunlight lanced through a break in the trees ahead. Another clearing awaited, and she raced for it. Running had proved a poor decision. Fighting was the only recourse left.

So fight she would.

Now. _Before_ Masaru robbed her of that choice.

As the trees parted overhead, she whirled and tossed her dagger. It struck true, embedding itself in the snake demon's eye socket, stopping him dead. He collapsed, but the others carried on, surging from the trees, a ragtag band of weaklings.

She called on her iron, and it flowed up her legs, leaving them bare of the armor that had protected her thus far. The new dagger was already weakened, rust flaking from its edges, but it was all she had.

It would have to do.

She called on every trick she'd ever learned, every technique she'd picked up during her training at the temple. Her kicks contained Chu's wild fury. Her punches channeled Jin's tornado fists. Any time she managed to gain a bit of distance, she hurled iron stars mimicking Touya's winds of winter.

Two puppets went down. Then a third. A fourth.

Yet they kept coming. Seven more harried her defenses. Too many to be held off for long. Too many for her to defeat alone.

It was a brutish beast of a creature who struck the defining blow. His fist caught her across the jaw, slamming her to her knees as stars burst in her vision. The world spun, the blades of grass crushed beneath her fingers blurring into a green sea. The brute lashed out again. His boot shattered into her ribs, knocking her breath from her lungs. She curled inward, her arms closing protectively over her head, braced for the next assault.

It never came.

"Back off, all of you."

Hell.

Not now.

Not like this.

Grass rustled as the puppets retreated. Their feet hovered at the edge of her vision, forming an arc along the clearing's edge—a guard detail. On the lookout for Hiei in all likelihood.

Her rattled senses managed to latch on to his signal, somewhere in the distance. But he was too far off to matter. Not even his speed could get him here in time to stop Masaru's next words.

"Kal."

She sank her teeth into her lip and clawed her way to her knees. Her nails dug into the dirt.

His impeccable dress shoes swam into her vision. "I knew you'd come back."

He left his implication hanging. That she'd come for _him_. That she couldn't stay away from _him._ Even now he was still clinging to that delusion. Convincing himself he was something more than her monstrous captor.

"Not for you," she hissed.

His shoes stopped mere feet ahead of her. If she reached out, she could've touched his toes.

She didn't so much as look up.

"Did you imagine you might mount a rescue?" he asked. His shoes shifted, his weight rocking onto the balls of his feet as he sank into a crouch. "Did you think you and the Jaganshi would be enough to overcome me? Truly, Kal? I thought you were smarter than that."

She spat on his shoes.

For perhaps the first time in all the years she'd known him, his composure well and truly cracked. His knuckles collided with her cheekbone. The blow sent her sprawling into the dirt, and the sticky warmth of fresh blood dripped down her jaw.

"I've grown tired of this game, Kalanie. You bore me."

Dragging her wrist across her bloodied cheek, she sat up and took him in. On the surface, he was the same as ever. Charcoal slacks. Collared shirt. Angular nose. But she spotted the cracks fissuring through his façade. His hair—normally gelled to tousled perfection—lacked its usual finish. Strands hung into his mud-brown eyes, drawing attention to the gauntness in his features.

And despite all his claims to the opposite, he watched her not with boredom, but with rage. Desperate, all-consuming anger. And maybe, hidden beneath that roiling hatred, the same desire he'd always harbored—the need to break her, the impulse to shatter her mind the way he had so many others.

Schooling her features to utter calm, she rose to her knees. Her voice came steady, giving away nothing of the terror wrapping bony fingers around her heart. "Liar."

His backhand came again.

This time she was ready. She caught his wrist and jerked him to a halt.

"Release me," he snapped.

Her hold loosened. He tugged free.

But her point had been made, and it had shaken him to his core. Feverish intensity gripped him as he lurched upright. "Get up."

She stood. "How did you hide these puppets? Why didn't we sense them?"

His eyes narrowed. "Quiet—"

She spoke over him, interrupting before the compulsion could take hold. "Answer the question. You have me now. What's left to hide?" Curling her hands into fists, she stepped forward. Though he tensed, he didn't back away. "Where did these puppets come from?"

He sneered, his overly plain features twisting into an ugly mask. "There were wards on the lab. While they were within those walls, my puppets were beyond your senses."

"So you knew we were here."

"I'm no fool, Kal."

Maybe not.

But she had been.

Taking out the guards had been her idea. There'd been no guarantee Kuwabara would be available to open a portal the moment they rescued Nomi. If he weren't, they needed an escape route, and those guards had stood in their way. Kalanie had thought killing them was a necessary evil—the only way to guarantee a smooth escape.

But in readying their getaway, they'd overplayed their hand. She'd walked into Masaru's trap. Yet again.

And her attempts to stall him were failing. Hiei still felt beyond reach, his signal distant, lost in the trees. He'd moved since the last time she'd sensed for him, but not closer. His path had taken him north, and even as she tried to get a lock on his location, he changed routes, heading east—not west as she had.

Masaru's sneer faded. His usual smile slid into place in its stead. "Looking for the Jaganshi, are you, Kal?"

She offered no answer, but if her silence fazed him, he hid it well.

"He won't find us," Masaru said. His hand delved into his pocket. When it reemerged, he cradled a slender device. Its screen flashed vivid green, a dot blinking at its center. "A signal obscurer. At this moment, a transmitter ten miles east of here is mimicking our auras. One press of a button and those signals will move another five miles north. I could run the Jaganshi in circles if I so pleased."

He chuckled. The single, solitary laugh rang through the clearing.

In its wake, she braced for panic to rise in her chest. She tensed against the onslaught of fear she'd by all rights earned. She anticipated her throat to close with the broken, desperate sobs that had hovered at the edge of her nightmares for years.

None of that came.

Instead, only the emptiness of failure filled her hollow places. After everything—all her efforts, all Kurama's careful planning, all the detectives' risks—she'd still botched this final, most crucial step.

Nomi remained beyond her reach.

Masaru had her once more. Yet again, she was his slave. Maybe it was her destiny. Maybe no matter how many times she escaped his clutches, she would always end up back here, fighting against his fog. Maybe it was inevitable.

Maybe.

Or maybe not.

* * *

AN: Kalanie's plans always seem to go awry, huh? I'm running out of time to torment her, so I've got to get in my last few jabs! Any guesses on how/if she'll get out of this mess?

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You all rock!


	27. Reckoning To Be Reckoned

There was no fog.

The realization came slowly, filtering past the crush of Kalanie's growing frustration. Despite the empty ache of her failures, her thoughts remained hers. Pure and clear. Unimpeded by the haze Masaru's compulsions usually heralded.

Little more than a week ago, that fog had almost smothered her. In these very woods, trapped within the second Shell, she'd nearly fallen prey to it forever. Hiei had saved her. He'd pierced past the fog, worked his way deep into the dark, and pulled her free. He'd been a light when the sun had all but gone out. He'd been a torch against the night.

But there was no Hiei now.

Only her. And Masaru. And the Sovereign Binds.

Yet the fog was nowhere to be found.

"All of this is over, Kalanie," Masaru announced. He stepped closer, eliminating the precious few feet that had separated them. "I know the half-breed has launched an attack on Taku. He won't win. I don't care how many of Demon World's traitorous bastards he's scrounged up. Our puppets will destroy them all."

"They won't."

A sneer darkened Masaru's features, but she didn't wilt before it. He was _wrong_. Yusuke wouldn't fail. Even if victory cost his life, he'd bring Taku down with him. She'd seen that truth in him as their army gathered outside the shrine, readied for war. She'd seen it in the set of his shoulders, in the fire in his eyes, in the tender kiss he'd shared with Keiko before he shed his boyish charm and shouldered the mantle of a commander.

Yusuke Urameshi had already died twice—it wouldn't happen again. Not for a long, long time. Eternities if his demon blood had anything to say about it.

Taku wouldn't be enough to change that.

"How naïve you've become," Masaru purred. He seized her jaw, his thumb pressing into the curve of her chin. "Human World must be tainted. Its very air must weaken those who breathe it in. There's no other explanation for the sheer degree of folly that's overtaken you."

"Don't profess to know me, Masaru. You've never known me." She grabbed his wrist, sinking her nails into its tender underside. "You made me say and do whatever you pleased. You made me live for years under the sway of your words. But there wasn't a single moment between us when I was _me_. You made sure of that."

He pried her fingers away and jerked them downward, trapping her hand at her waist. His grip tightened on her chin. "You pretend so valiantly, but you're not the fierce little thing you want the Jaganshi to believe you are. You're weak. You're broken. That's not something I created in you. It was always there. Long before I claimed you."

A growl built in her chest.

"Quiet."

The compulsion worked instantly, cutting off her voice before proper words could rise, but even still, no fog manifested.

"Do you remember it, Kal? The day we met?"

Even if he hadn't locked her words inside her throat, she wouldn't have answered. She refused to give him that pleasure—to admit how vividly their first encounter remained emblazoned in her memories. Try though she might, she'd never forget it.

Such a mundane morning. It should've been nothing, a mere blip in the hundreds of years that would form her lifetime. A menial day trip into the nearest city to purchase goods for the smithy she'd set up in her village. At his insistence, she'd allowed Nomi to accompany her—a mistake. One she would take to her grave.

If Nomi hadn't been with her, maybe Masaru never would have found him. Maybe he'd have taken her, and Nomi would've stayed free. She'd never have seen him again, and that separation would've proven its own brand of hell, but at least he wouldn't have been the Shell—at least he could've _lived_.

A hundred other possibilities waited down that line of thought. Questions about whether the Fall could've even happened without Nomi. Uncertainties about whether she would've captivated Masaru so thoroughly if not for Nomi keeping her afloat.

But those _what ifs_ were nothing. Useless musings that got her nowhere.

Masaru _had_ found her. Nomi _had_ been with her. The rest was writ in stone, carved into history in blood and steel and midnight ink.

Chuckling lowly, Masaru traced his thumb along her bottom lip, his eyes tracking the motion. "I know you remember. Of course you do. So many demons in that marketplace, yet fate brought us together."

Curses bottled in her throat, trapped beneath the compulsion still ruling her. She snapped at him instead, her teeth nearly closing on his thumb before he yanked his hand out of reach.

"Now, Kal, have you forgotten you can't harm me?" He rolled his eyes. "Use your words instead."

Instantly, her voice returned, her tongue sputtering to life. "I hate you."

His brows rose. "A shame that gets you nowhere. Perhaps you don't remember the last time we were together—when you offered yourself to me. In whatever way I wanted. I should hold you to that."

Disgust curdled within her. Her thoughts flicked to Hiei, her senses combing the woods for him, finding him fifteen miles west, still chasing Masaru's false signals. She ached for his presence, for his heat hunkered in the depths of her mind. That he hadn't reached out for her seemed impossible, but without the ability to trace Masaru's energy, maybe he couldn't find her mind either.

A muscle flexed in Masaru's jaw. "Are you ignoring me, Kal?"

She held her silence.

It enraged him. He clutched her shoulder and hauled her close. "It seems I'm in the mood for reminiscing," he drawled, his casual tone betrayed by the force of his hold on her. "Do you remember the moment I placed the Binds over you? You were the first, Kal. Had I ever revealed that before? Not just my first, but _the_ first of Taku's entire army. The test that proved what we could do. An honor—"

"A bane."

His hand clenched her arm so tight it felt as though her bones were cracking. "Your body accepted the Binds so easily. As if it had been waiting for them all along." The smile that twisted across his lips made her skin crawl. "I wonder if you'd fair any better now. I'm sure you believe you would—that you're stronger now, that you're up to the challenge. I think you'd find you're wrong."

She ached to hurt him, to rend him limb from limb, to tear him into such tiny, bloody pieces no one would ever find his body. Spirit World claimed limbo was the worst fate it could offer, but if she had her way, there wouldn't be enough of Masaru's soul left for eternal damnation.

He'd earned that.

And maybe he was right about the Binds. Maybe he'd always prove too strong for her to overcome. But even now, the fog remained nonexistent. Always— _always_ —it had risen before. Its absence had to mean _something_.

It had to.

"After Yusuke kills Taku, he'll come here. If my brother hasn't been saved, he'll bring his whole damn army to this place. They'll raze it to the ground. So what's your play, Masaru? Where do you think you go from here?"

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. "Oh, Kal, I have plans. You're the key to their success."

"Your mistake."

He shook his head. "I don't think so, but if you need me to prove it to you, so be it. Let's start small. The Jaganshi's reckoning has arrived."

Ice ran in her veins.

Masaru shoved her to her knees, and she slammed into the dirt, her fingers knotting in the coarse grass. "Gather fresh iron," he drawled, the compulsion settling in her bones. "There's plenty. After all, hat's why we moved the Shell here. Take as much as you need. Every last flake if you must. Whatever it takes to kill that bastard."

It was then, as her energy delved into the earth, searching for the ore he promised, that the fog materialized. Like mist gathered at dawn, it clouded her mind, numbing her to the rush of iron surging upward. She clawed back at it. Resisting. Fighting. Summoning the sharp contours of Hiei's face from her memory, reminding herself of his endless heat.

Still, the fog grew.

Iron burst from the ground, pooling around her hands and flowing up her arms. Her power multiplied with every bit of steel, and the fog ebbed against it, hovering at the edge of her energy.

Faltering.

Unbidden, Nomi rose in her mind. The boy he had once been and the tortured demon he'd grown into. Dark, unruly curls. Hazel eyes, twinkling and bright. The rounded chin they both shared.

Again, the fog diminished.

As it retreated, clarity returned. Masaru's command rang in her ears. _Take as much as you need. Every last flake if you must._

 _Whatever it takes to kill the bastard._

Impossible. A task she could never complete. No amount of iron in the world would grant her the strength to overcome Hiei. He was the ruler of the black dragon, the commander of the darkness flame. There might be demons who rivaled his might—but Kalanie wasn't one of them.

She never would be.

And therein lay the loophole.

The curtain of her hair served her well, masking the grin she couldn't smother as she threw her will more firmly at the earth. Her energy flared, sinking deep beneath the forest, calling to more iron than she'd ever dreamed to call her own.

This was Demon World ore. Not the easily rusted iron of Human World. Not the weak steel she'd clung to in the long months before she'd stumbled upon the detectives and their shrine. It sang in answer to her call, rising in boundless waves.

Distantly, Masaru's voice registered in her ears, but she paid him no mind as her iron flooded the clearing. It was too much to wear like armor, and so it gathered around her hands and knees and spilled outward, coating the grass in shining, liquid steel. With it came power, unfiltered and unharnessed.

Not enough to defeat Hiei. Never enough for that. But enough for her new purpose.

One Masaru believed her incapable of.

A snarl tore from her throat as she seized her energy and honed it to a sharp point. A lifetime ago, she'd huddled in the bedroom that had become hers and battered a set of spirit cuffs until they'd snapped, worn thin before her unrelenting assault. Now, with a precision born from training against demons far and away her superiors, she turned her will against the Sovereign Binds, set on destroying them just as she had those spirit cuffs so long ago.

Gritting her teeth, she hurled her energy at the markings tattooed across her right arm. Iron followed, digging into her skin, sinking into the ink of the Binds' themselves. Pain throbbed at the edge of her awareness, but next to the rush of adrenaline thrumming through her veins, it was negligible, nothing but an annoyance. Unfazed, she pressed on, her iron forging a path up her forearm.

The steel traced a silver trail through the darkness. Black whorls and stark lines gave way to shining metal. The chain links around her wrists chipped, iron reforming their curves. Then it blazed up her hands, tearing through the swirls that marred her fingers.

Masaru's name dissolved last of all. Iron rippled through the characters, obliterating the ink that had once proclaimed his ownership of her.

By the time he realized what she'd done, he was too late. Iron roved up her left arm, and when he lunged for her, the whirling cloud of her aura knocked him aside like he was nothing.

That's what he was, truly. A nobody. A mid-class demon granted capabilities far beyond his means. The Sovereign Binds had elevated him to heights he hadn't earned, had made him into more than he deserved to be. But as she rose from her crouch, iron spilling from her arms in molten torrents, there were no Binds emblazoned on her skin. Not anymore. Only steel remained. Markings of her own making.

"Stand down, Kal," Masaru ordered, stumbling backward, panic turning him sloppy and erratic. "Drop your iron."

"No."

Calmly, as if she had all the time in the world, she bared her wrists to him. His name gleamed there, wrought in iron, but even as his gaze locked upon the lettering, the characters began to deteriorate. The steel gave way to rust, eroding from her skin flake by precious flake.

A gust of wind sent the scraps swirling into the air. They danced like the sparks of a fire, tossed about on a breeze, but as with all things, eventually they fell back to the earth. Her molten iron swallowed them up.

"You've lost," she said, her voice steady as fine steel. "You've lost me. You've lost this war. And now you'll lose your life."

She struck before he could move, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat. The force of her attack drove him to the ground, and her hand closed over his throat, silencing him before he could compel the puppets still ringing their isolated clearing. Without them, he was helpless, incapable of anything more than grappling uselessly as her wrist.

For years, she'd imagined this moment. She'd dreamed of the ways she might kill him, each more violent and heartless than the last. Minutes ago, she'd relieved those dreams, picturing him torn to bloodied shreds. But now, with his life in her hands, that all felt too much. Too complicated. Too overwrought.

He didn't warrant some grand, horrific gesture. All he warranted was death.

And so she gave it to him.

A dagger took shape in her hand, its edge sharp as the finest blade ever forged. She wasted no time on preamble, no breath on threats or promises. The cut was smooth. A quick slash across his vulnerable throat. Blood spurted from the wound, splattering across her face and soaking her shirt, but she remained motionless, poised above him, her hand still caught beneath his chin, watching as his life bled into the steel-coated grass.

His gaze turned glassy, his mouth frozen half-agape, some compulsion dead on his tongue. Only then did she rock backward, fumbling through his pockets for the transmitter he'd hidden there. As her fingers closed on its contours, she clenched her fist tight, crushing the device and terminating its signal.

Then, at last, she extracted herself from his corpse.

* * *

How long she sat in the dirt, she couldn't be certain.

At some point, Masaru's final puppets returned to themselves, waking from the weight of the Binds' fog. Almost as one, they fled into the forest, bolting through the trees. Running as far and fast as their legs could carry them.

A silence fell after their departure, and in the lull, all she could hear was the languid, plodding beat of her heart—so much slower than it had ever been. Not like Hiei's, not nearly so infrequent., yet nothing like she had always known it.

Hiei's arrival came without ceremony.

One moment she was alone, lost in her heartbeat, and the next, he knelt before her, his cloak swirling with the speed of his arrival. With a gentle knuckle, he tilted up her chin and met her gaze. His hand curled over her blood-crusted cheek.

"I killed him," she whispered.

"So I noticed."

For his part, he seemed uninjured. If not for a tear in his shirt, one wouldn't have guessed at the lives he'd ended in these woods.

Emotions she couldn't—wouldn't—identify flickered in his eyes. "Your blood?"

She shook her head. "His."

"Good."

It might've been exhaustion or relief or some unknowable mix of the two, but an unexpected sob bottled in her throat and she leaned into him, pressing her face into the curve of his shoulder and blinking back tears. His arms closed around her, crushing her to the hard planes of his chest.

Hell.

She'd done it. She'd killed Masaru. Ended his stake on her life. Freed herself. After everything, she'd actually _freed_ herself.

Now, just one objective remained. The most important one. More imperative than even her freedom.

Nomi.

Always Nomi.

Gathering herself, she leaned back. "It's not over."

"Not yet. But soon."

She nodded. "Time to get Nomi."

For a breath, Hiei remained motionless, studying her so intently she squirmed in her own skin. Then a smirk curled his lips, lighting his features like a coal stirred back to open flame. His voice came soft as a purr. "You broke your chains."

"No." She splayed her hands wide. The sun caught the steel etched through her flesh. It glowed like gold. "I made them _mine_."

* * *

The lab was quiet. Deserted.

Only one energy signal waited within. If Masaru had left other puppets to guard Nomi, they'd gone now, following their counterparts into the forest after his hold over them evaporated. All that remained was her brother, locked inside the Shell, still trapped, still waiting for her.

But not for long.

Ever vigilant, Hiei held his katana at the ready as he shouldered open the door and stalked across the threshold. Kalanie's hands were empty, the fight going out of her even as her heartbeat returned to its regular, steady pace. She trailed Hiei on silent feet, her focus already locked on the distant Shells.

The larger of the two remained as she'd last seen it, its massive tank shattered after she'd punched through the glass. An empty harness hung within, and for a single, panicked moment, she thought Nomi wasn't here—that they'd moved him elsewhere, hidden him away.

But then Hiei grunted, jerking his chin toward the smaller Shell, and there he was. Suspended from a harness, bathed in molten iron.

 _Nomi_.

The floor panels blurred beneath her feet as she bolted to his side. She pressed her palms against the tank, the glass cold beneath her fingers despite the liquid iron within. She'd never learned how Taku had managed that—turning the iron molten without increasing its temperature.

It didn't matter now.

Hiei strode to her side. He eyed the lab distrustfully, and she didn't miss the angle of his katana, still braced for the unexpected. "How do we get him out?"

Recalling her own brief moments within this Shell, Kalanie turned to the contraption's control panel. A dozen buttons and levers awaited her, but she remembered those Masaru had manipulated—or, at least, she hoped she did—and she mimicked his motions.

First came the switch for the siphon. As soon as she disengaged it, the air itself seemed to change. Without the Shell sucking away Nomi's power, it rippled around him, his aura building to blistering heights. Hiei tensed, but for Kalanie, Nomi's energy was like a balm—sweet and gentle and utterly welcome.

Next, she punched a button at the console's top corner. The results were less instant this time. The iron filling the Shell's confines spiraled slowly downward, draining from the tank. Seconds ticked by, but the iron level barely shifted, decreasing at a torturous rate.

Hiei drew closer. His shoulder brushed hers. "We can shatter the glass."

She shook her head. Her pulse pounded in her temples, drumming at the same speed it always had, all the power she'd drawn from her iron dissipated. "It feels right—getting him out this way. Freeing him properly. Once and for all."

Hiei dipped his chin in understanding, if not agreement.

Tentatively, she reached for his hand and laced her fingers through his. To her immense relief, he didn't pull away. "Once he's out," she whispered, "we'll destroy the Shells. Obliterate them. I never want one used again."

His gaze slanted toward her. He squeezed her hand. "Hn. Done."

A sharp beep drew her attention back to the Shell.

The last of the iron had flowed through the grating beneath Nomi's feet, and his chamber stood empty. Kalanie didn't let herself think as she pulled free of Hiei and tore open the tank's latch. She couldn't dwell on Nomi's gaunt features, his pale skin and frail frame. All she could focus on was getting him out.

With trembling hands, she grappled with his harness, tugging it from his shoulders and undoing the clasps, then disengaged his breathing apparatus and feeding tube. He slipped free and sagged against her, his head lolling against her chest—unconscious. She cradled his elbows, straining to lift him clear of the chamber's lip and draw him free.

He'd grown since she'd last seen him free of the Shell. Over a year ago. Nearly two. So wretchedly long. The scrawny boy she'd known had been become gangly, taller than her for the first time in his life. Like many demons, he'd stayed preternaturally young, but at last he'd begun to grow into himself. She could only imagine what he might've become without the Shell draining away his very essence.

She was vaguely conscious of Hiei's uncertain scrutiny, barely cognizant of his voice's rough rumble. But she thought nothing of it as she sank to the floor, Nomi tangled in her arms. She combed her fingers through his limp curls, as if all they needed was a bit of love to revive them. They remained lifeless, heavy with grease and worn thin from malnutrition.

Like so much else, it didn't matter.

Nomi was dirty. Unresponsive. Ill beyond measure. But he was _alive_ and in her arms and free, and not a damn thing in the world could ruin that.

She kissed his pale forehead. With a will of their own, her fingers tracked over his cheeks and ran along his jaw, committing him to memory as surely as she'd memorized Hiei the night before. Bending her forehead to his, she breathed deep, choking down involuntary tears.

A mind brushed against hers, bright and warm as a flame.

– _Kalanie.–_

She didn't look up. "Yes, Hiei?"

A flicker of heat that might have been a laugh ghosted through their connection. It curled inside her, nestled around her heart. _–Are we destroying the Shells or not?–_

Again, she pressed a soft kiss to Nomi's temple, then finally met Hiei's sharp gaze. "You do it. I can't… I can't let him go just yet."

Wordlessly, he turned to the Shells. Black flames erupted around his fists, consuming his knuckles as he blurred into motion. Punch by punch, he destroyed the machines—obliterating them just as she had asked—and when they were nothing but rubble, he crossed to her side and extended a hand.

Kalanie let him draw her upright, keeping one arm locked around Nomi's waist, securing him against her side. Though Hiei's gaze never left hers, his Jagan flared, purple light spilling across his forehead. Kuwabara's portal opened moments later, tearing through the worlds.

Gently, Hiei pulled Nomi from her and scooped him upward, an arm circled around his shoulders, the other looped under his knees. Something she might have called pride danced in his eyes. "After you."

And so she went. To freedom. To peace.

To home.

* * *

A swirl of activity greeted their arrival at the shrine. Kuwabara and Genkai held court in the clearing, Kuwabara's dimension sword blazing, and a squadron of Spirit Defense Force soldiers lurked in the trees, spirit energy gathered in their hands. As the ground solidified beneath Kalanie's feet, Genkai barked at the officers to stand down. They deferred to her orders. But Masaru's blood still crusted across her skin, and panic lit in Kuwabara's eyes at the sight of her. Stubbornly, she waved him off, promised she wasn't injured, and darted Hiei after toward the shrine.

Yukina met them on the porch, knotting her hands together and staring at Kalanie's brother with wide eyes. "Nomi?"

Kalanie nodded, reaching out thoughtlessly to brush a hand through his curls. "He hasn't stirred, but he's alive." For the first time, anxiety sputtered awake in her chest. "Can you treat him? Wake him?"

"I can try." Smiling gently, Yukina ushered them inside. "We've set up an infirmary—"

"No. Take him to my room."

"Of course."

With a low chuckle that woke coals in her belly, Hiei diverted through the meeting room and strode down the hall to her door. Inside, he settled Nomi atop the bed, then stepped clear, allowing Yukina to perch on the mattress's edge. The ice apparition pressed a delicate hand to Nomi's chest, her eyelids fluttering shut.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, Kalanie asked, "Can you help him?"

"Maybe. It'll take time. His injuries—if they can even be called that—will need nurturing. A slow, steady treatment."

Kalanie bit her lip. "How long?"

"I can't say." Yukina's eyes opened. Glancing toward Hiei, she offered an apologetic smile. "I'll make sure he's stable, but I can't do more now. Not until we know how the others are faring against Taku. You should go shower. Get some rest—or, failing that, distract yourself. Help Kazuma." Again, she peeked at her brother. "Both of you."

"I'll stay here. If he wakes up—"

"He won't. Not for a while yet."

A hand snaked around her elbow. Firm, callused fingers steered her toward the hall. "Let her work." Before Kalanie could protest, Hiei had leveraged her into the corridor and drawn the door shut. His hand dragged up her arm, sketching a track of smoldering fire that set her ablaze. A smirk tugged at his lips. "You're a bloody mess."

Despite herself, she couldn't stifle a laugh. "You're not much better."

He leaned closer, his lips parting—though whether for a comeback or a kiss, she'd never know. Outside, Kuwabara's aura flared, and Hiei went still. A portal tore into existence, and a heartbeat later, demons poured through it, a dozen familiar energy signatures bursting across her awareness. Shishiwakamura, Jin, Touya, Chu, and the rest of their motley crew.

Hiei tilted his head toward the distant yard, but otherwise remained frozen, not even breathing as he waited. She knew what he was anticipating. The same fear guttered in her chest, building with each passing heartbeat.

At last, in rapid succession, came two last demons, their strength—even lessened as it was—more vast than any who had come before them. Tension loosened in Hiei's shoulders. The hand he'd unwittingly clenched around her bicep relaxed. And again, Kalanie understood.

Those auras were unmistakable. Unforgettable.

Youko Kurama. Yusuke Urameshi.

Weakened, yes. Practically ghosts of the demons who'd ventured off to battle hours before. Depleted. Exhausted. Yet, even still, she'd have known them anywhere. The final pieces of a four-man puzzle.

The spirit detectives.

Victors and heroes. Again.

Always.

* * *

AN: Nomi is free! At long last!

I hope you'll all forgive me for not showing Taku's defeat. In the end, he wasn't the real bad guy—at least, not for Kalanie. Her big bad was always Masaru, and I wanted to focus on her and what she had to overcome. If this were Yusuke's story, we'd have seen Taku, but it's not. This story has always been about Kalanie and Hiei and Nomi. So I hope you enjoyed this! I loved writing it.

Also, huge shout out to my dear, lovely friend, K/kitticorn. She was integral to this chapter, especially the way Kalanie at last breaks her chains. Thanks for being brilliant, K!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed!


	28. And We Could Be Enough

Dusk settled over the temple like a well-worn cloak, shadows massing amongst the trees as the sun dipped beyond the mountains and the moon rose in its stead. Wan moonlight filtered through the windows of the meeting room, painting Kalanie in pale silver. Resting her forehead against a cool windowpane, she gazed into the gathering dark.

In the kitchen, Keiko and Shizuru clattered about, preparing dinner for the shrine's battered occupants. Yukina and Botan had spent the last hours tending the wounds the others accrued fighting Taku—Yusuke's shattered shoulder, Kurama's broken ribs, Chu's concussion, and on and on. According to Yusuke, Yomi and Mukuro had fared even worse, and more than one of Raizen's old friends had joined the deceased king in the afterlife, but even still, the losses Taku had suffered had dwarfed anything his puppets dealt in return. By the time Yusuke laid Taku low, never to rise again, the puppet army had been reduced to tatters.

Frowning, Kalanie peered down at her fingers. Iron laced across them, delicate swirls reflecting the moonlight. If she so pleased, she could turn these new markings to rust, just as she had Masaru's name. But she didn't. She chose not to.

She barely stifled a grin.

Chose. She _chose_.

What an absurdly pleasing thought.

To her left, the door thwacked open and Kuwabara lumbered inside. He yawned, rubbing a large hand across the back of his neck. Spotting her, he drifted over. "Washed off all the blood, huh?"

"May it rot with the rest of him."

Kuwabara's brow rose. "Ah, right. Hiei mentioned you handled Masaru on your own. Hell of lot of blood for one asshole."

She shrugged a single shoulder. "Turns out, severed jugulars are rather messy."

A laugh burst from his lips, so loud and sudden it seemed to startle even him. "Never would have guessed." His gaze dropped to her hands. "So did those fancy silver tattoos of yours show up before or after you killed him?"

"Before."

He whistled softly and snagged an arm around her shoulders, crushing her to his side in a lopsided hug. "Damn straight. I knew you could best that bastard."

She shook her head. Maybe she'd beaten Masaru, but she hadn't bested him. The six years she'd lost to his Binds were testament to that. Still, she didn't argue and instead turned her focus beyond the window again. "All quiet out there?"

"Yup. I stationed Hiei on watch, but I don't expect any activity." Releasing her, Kuwabara shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Honestly, I bet we'll start getting the first reports of defections before midnight. There are some puppeteers left in Demon World, I'm sure. Taku couldn't have been stupid enough to keep them all in one place. But once word of Taku's death reaches the leaders of the demon clans and gangs who'd aligned with him, those alliances will fall apart. At worst, unbound demons will abandon the puppeteers they're serving. At best, they'll kill the lot."

"And you'll be there to pick up the pieces."

He snorted. "Oh, hell no. _I_ won't be anywhere except here, helping get Human World back on its feet. But Demon World won't need me to sort it out. Yomi and Mukuro are chomping at the bit to reclaim Gandara and Alaric. If he has to, Yusuke will manage Tourin—though I think he'd sooner stay here and leave that mess to Hokushin."

Picking at a splinter in the windowsill, Kalanie peeked at Kuwabara beneath the fall of her bangs. "Because of Keiko?"

"Among other things."

"And Kurama and Hiei? Do you think they'll go back to Demon World?"

Again, he barked a sudden laugh. "Well, Kurama was talking about wrapping up his ties to Yomi even before the Fall, so I think that's obvious enough, but Hiei… You're better off asking the shrimp yourself. I'm not going to pretend I understand the workings of his weird little brain." Kuwabara's grin turned sly. "Nor yours, for that matter. I'm guessing the two are more interconnected than you'd like to let on."

She sighed.

Maybe. Hopefully. But there was no knowing for certain. At least, not until she did like Kuwabara instructed and asked Hiei herself.

A terrifying proposal if ever there was one.

A sudden crash in the kitchen interrupted the half-formed denial with which she'd intended to rebut Kuwabara's implication. The heartbeat of silence that followed was broken first by Keiko's faint gasp and then by a gruff, faltering apology that could only be Shizuru's. Nearly in tandem, Kuwabara went stiff, grunting as though he'd been struck.

It took another breath before Kalanie sensed what had hit the highly perceptive siblings, but once she did, the change was impossible to ignore. It shattered across her awareness, tearing the world asunder, halving the great expanse of the universe. Righting a wrong that had long been broken.

The shift left Kuwabara gasping and sweating, his hands white-knuckled as they grasped the windowsill to keep him steady. For Kalanie, the effect wasn't nearly so grand, and almost as quickly as she sensed it, the precise feel of it fell away, slipping through her grasp like some enigmatic, unknowable thing. It floated into the ether. Quick to be forgotten. Never to be experienced again.

The return of the barrier. The separation of the worlds.

The restoration of balance.

Or—as it was to be known forevermore—the Rise.

* * *

That night, Kalanie slept at Nomi's side, curled beneath the blankets, her fingers laced through his. In the gloom of her bedroom, he could've been sleeping, catching a much-deserved bout of rest. Not unconscious. Not unresponsive. Yet when she woke, he remained unchanged. Though his chest rose and fell evenly and his heartbeat plodded at a pace that made Hiei's seem breakneck, he didn't stir as the shrine churned to life.

Rubbing her thumb in slow circles along the underside of his wrist, she studied him. Before bed, as the temple had fallen quiet, she'd given him a sponge bath. It was only then, while strands of his malnourished hair came loose beneath her fingers and her gentle ministrations irritated his paper-thin skin, that she properly understood the full severity of his mistreatment.

Oh, what she would've given to shove Taku and Masaru's spirits back into their corpses so she might kill them anew.

A polite knock at the door preceded its opening, and Yukina poked her head inside. "Oh, good. You're awake. Mind if I check on Nomi?"

Kalanie shoved back the covers and sat up. "No. Please do." As Yukina eased the door shut and padded over to the bed, Kalanie noticed the pallor in her cheeks and the tremble in her hands. She gritted her teeth as the apparition settled on the mattress's edge. "If you're too worn out, you don't have to treat him now. I can only imagine—"

Yukina flapped a delicate hand dismissively. "Shush, Kalanie. I know better than to overexert myself."

"Of course. Sorry."

For a time, Yukina worked in silence, her hand pressed to Nomi's chest. Then she hummed as if in affirmation and opened her eyes. "I think he'll recover. With time and nutrition and a little help from Botan and me. He might even wake in the next few days. This isn't a coma, not really. It's more like hibernation, like what Hiei succumbs to after employing the dragon of the darkness flame. While he sleeps, we'll need to feed him."

"I can do that."

Yukina shook her head. "Humans have developed all sorts of medical technology not yet established in Demon World. A doctor in the encampment has the means of intubating—"

"No," Kalanie said sharply. "No tubes. He was intubated for months in the Shell. No more of that. I'll feed him."

"Understood." With a soft smile, Yukina brushed a pale finger across Kalanie's wrists. "Kazuma told me you did this. That you replaced your Binds with iron."

Kalanie flexed her hands. The steel rippled in answer, shimmering and dancing with each twitch of her fingers. "It's like you said. We're shaped by the good and the bad. The Sovereign Binds are amongst the worst cards any soul can be dealt, but they made me who I am—and perhaps that's not quite the nightmare I always thought it was." She cleared her throat, ignoring the crack in her voice as she continued. "I spent years ashamed of these markings, convinced they would be my undoing, but I survived them. I beat them. And I wouldn't have been strong enough to do that if I'd never borne them at all."

Yukina rose gracefully and dipped a slight bow. "They're beautiful, Kalanie. Wear them proudly."

She left without a further word, drifting into the hall, her yukata whispering around her heels. Kalanie stayed with Nomi a while longer, until the scent of breakfast stirred her into motion, her stomach reminding her just how much energy she'd expended defeating Masaru.

Time to meet the first day of the Rise. The first day of the future.

* * *

Kalanie anticipated a run-in with Hiei over breakfast. In fact, she'd been counting on it. There were things she had to tell him. Truths that could no longer be avoided. When he made no appearance in the kitchen, she recalibrated. He'd skipped out on breakfast, which meant he couldn't avoid lunch. She'd catch him then and pull him away.

But as noon came and went, the fire demon remained unaccounted for. His bowl of udon went untouched. His seat at the table unoccupied.

Kuwabara noticed her unease. Grinning, he ducked over her shoulder and whispered, "I couldn't pull Hiei off guard duty until dawn. If you're looking for him, his bed might be the place to start." His tone made his meaning clear enough, but he waggled his eyebrows for emphasis before slurping down a mouthful of noodles.

Nosy bastard.

Still, as soon as Jin sauntered from the kitchen—thereby making her not the first to break ranks—Kalanie followed his lead. She scooped up Hiei's unclaimed bowl as she rounded the counter, then darted into the shrine's twisting halls. Her heart clamored against her breastbone, beating like the wings of a bird taking flight as she drew even with his door.

No movement stirred within, but the moment her knuckles rapped against the wood paneling, Hiei grunted in answer.

"Can I come in?"

"Hn."

Urging her hand to steady, she slipped within. Hiei sat in bed, one leg drawn to his chest, an arm braced atop it, his katana and a whetstone in hand. He looked better rested than a night of sentry duty should've allowed, and it took her a moment to realize he'd closed his Jagan for the first time since rescuing her from Masaru. A strip of pale cloth concealed its crease, and only now—without its glow bathing him in purple light—was it apparent how sickly its illumination had made him appear before.

Ducking before his dark gaze, she hoisted the udon bowl in silent explanation.

He cocked his head as he surveyed her and extended a hand. "How's Nomi?"

Even now, with the ability to speak Nomi's name hers once more, hearing it on Hiei's tongue woke butterflies in her stomach. Would the magic of it ever wear off?

"Unchanged." She pressed the bowl into his possession then hesitated, her gaze skittering away from his. "The prognosis looks good—or so Yukina says."

"She wouldn't offer false promises."

Kalanie wrapped her arms around her middle and scanned his room. The map of Demon World he'd painstakingly plotted still hung on the far wall, dozens of pins stuck across its surface. With any luck, it was time to remove those markers. The encampments they indicated should be dissolving even at that very moment.

Clearing her throat, Kalanie glanced back at him. "Where did the rest of our army go after the fight?"

"I hadn't asked. Your guess is as good as mine."

Her fingers dug into her sides, pressing against the hollows between her ribs. "You don't even know where Mukuro is?"

"Hn, probably summoning whichever bastards are still willing to align with her after her idiocy against the puppets."

Whichever bastards? But not him?

Maybe she should've already known the answers to the anxieties jangling in her chest. When he'd sworn off contact with her, he'd promised it wasn't forever. He'd sworn he wanted her. Yet doubt crept in on all sides, the skulking certainty he hadn't meant it the way she hoped eating away at her.

Perhaps he just wanted a nice tumble. A quick lay. After all, he was the Jaganshi. His name would live on for centuries, recorded in Demon World's annals alongside his fellow detectives. In the grand scheme of the worlds, she was nothing, one tiny blip amongst thousands of fighter far superior to her. What sort of long-term interest could she possibly hold for a man of Hiei's caliber?

 _I want you, Kalanie. And I_ will _have you._

Even the memory of his declaration was enough to send shivers down her spine. They settled in the small of her back, curling into a ball of smoldering coals, flooding her with nervous, sparking energy.

Such pretty words. Precisely what she'd wanted to hear. And yet not enough—not enough to convince her that Hiei's future entwined with hers quite how she dreamed.

Hiei exchanged his katana for chopsticks produced from the drawer beside his bed and slurped up a mouthful of noodles. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, then he narrowed his eyes. "What are you thinking?"

Her heart stuttered.

Of course he'd noticed her jitters. She'd never managed to hide much from him. Why even attempt hiding this?

She curled her hands into fists, her knuckles pressed against her ribs. "When do you leave to join her?"

He choked on a bite of udon. "What?"

"Mukuro. When will you return to Alaric?"

Silence held for a second before his chopsticks clattered into his bowl. His jaw clenched and unclenched, the tendons in the strong column of his throat flexing with each movement. At last, in an utter monotone, he asked, "Is that what you want?"

Not an answer to her question. Not in the slightest.

"Me?" she asked, barely staving off the trembles threatening to crack her voice. "What does it matter what I want?"

He snorted. With a roll of his eyes, he set aside his bowl and smacked a palm against the mattress. "Sit, Kalanie."

She did as bidden, sinking onto the bed's edge. The mattress dipped beneath her, the blanket crinkling, but Hiei scowled and jerked his chin at the spot beside him. She slid closer and drew her knees to her chest.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he drew in a deep breath, then swept his hand up through his hair. "What are your plans now? Where will you go?"

And that was the trick of it, wasn't it? Even if Hiei _did_ want her—really and truly—how could a future be made to work? She was bound to Nomi. After everything, she wouldn't be separated from him. Not now. Not ever again if she could help it.

If Hiei returned to Alaric, where did that leave them? Kalanie would sooner reside in Human World the rest of her life than return to the Forest of Fools and the life Masaru had torn asunder. Six years ago, she'd been content to live in her sleepy, old village until the day Spirit World claimed her, but for all intents and purposes, the Kalanie of six years ago _had_ died and the Kalanie of today would never be happy returning home—if it could even be home without Mazou.

She pressed her forehead to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut. "If Genkai will have me, I'll stay here. I don't know when Nomi will wake up, but once he does, he'll need time to recover. I need to keep him safe. Here seems as good a place as any."

As soon as she said it, she knew it was true.

This temple had become home. It was the first place she'd been safe in years. The first place she'd had allies—friends. The first place where she'd felt like herself. She didn't want to leave it or the people who filled its halls.

But maybe the others, like Hiei, weren't destined to stay here either.

"Hn, the old woman won't kick you out. She's not nearly the crotchety bitch she pretends to be." He paused, glaring at his hands. Bandages twined around his arm, obscuring the dragon and covering his fingers. "From what Kurama has told me, I gather the humans will need years to piece their societies back together. The encampment won't disband for weeks, if not months or years. These people will need protection."

"Then that's my future," Kalanie murmured.

"And mine."

She hardly dared breathe. "Yours?"

"My sister is here. Kurama and Yusuke, too." He glanced sidelong at her, his eyes softer than she'd ever seen them. "And you."

"Hiei—"

"Unless that's not what you want. If you want me gone, if compelling you is something you can't move past, I can return to Alaric."

No.

Hell no.

But the words to reassure him wouldn't come. They bottled in her throat, clogged behind her hammering heart.

Breathless, she twisted to face him. He'd locked his gaze on the opposite wall, frowning at the map he'd pinned in place, and it wasn't until she curled a hand around his neck that he looked back at her.

The first time she'd kissed him, she'd been scrabbling to find herself again. After weeks beneath the fog, he'd been an anchor to reality. He'd been something to cling to, something real and vivid and alive. She'd kissed him with fervor and need, desperate to feel his heat beneath her hands after days of it nestled in her mind.

But now she knew herself in ways she never had before. Her hands were laced not with black ink, but with iron ore—a blessing of her own making, not a curse of _his_. She was Kalanie. She was free.

And she was terrified.

As her lips found his, trepidation fluttered in her chest. Her pulse skipped and jumped in her veins, thrumming at a pace that might very well kill her. Touching Hiei was like stoking a fire, and his flames burned her everywhere. Her lips. Her palms.

His reaction came slowly and then all at once. One moment he was still, allowing her to guide just as he had the first time. The next, he'd wrapped an arm around her waist and drawn her into his lap. His free hand plunged into her hair, knotting amongst the strands.

The fire roared higher, scorching her to the very bone. She reveled in it. In him. In his warmth. In his strength. In his light.

It consumed her, and she didn't fight it. Not as he slid downward, pulling her with him. Not as they tangled in the blankets, his legs twisting through hers. Not as he pressed blazing kisses along her collarbone and dragged callused fingers along her waist.

At last, after he'd drawn every last breath from her lungs, she eased back, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his shoulders. Eyebrow quirked in question, he propped himself on a forearm. His body slanted across hers, their legs still entwined.

She sucked down a ragged gulp of air, all too aware of her swollen lips and mussed hair, but no embarrassment encroached on her. This was _right_. This was what she wanted. For as long as she could have it.

"I choose you," she whispered. Then, louder, more firmly, she repeated, "I _choose_ you, Hiei Jaganshi. Not because of a compulsion. Not because of any one thing you said, but because of _everything_ you've said. Everything you've done." His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth, but she plowed ahead before he could speak. "I choose you, and I hope you choose me, too. And we can work out the rest. Where we belong. What we should do. We have time. If you'll—"

He kissed her, long and languid and deep.

When he broke free, it was not a smirk that curled his lips, but a smile.

* * *

AN: I'm so sorry this chapter is coming so late! It's the first one that I've had to finish the day I'm supposed to post. Oops! As a result I haven't been able to respond to reviews from last chapter yet. If I can't tonight, I will by tomorrow. Sorry for that, too!

We're almost done, guys. I'm 99% sure there's just one chapter (and an itty bitty epilogue) left. I'm not ready to leave this story behind, but at the same time, we've reached the end of Kalanie's journey except for a few strands that will get wrapped up next time. I hope you'll all enjoy the ending!

Thank you oodles and oodles to everyone who reviewed last chapter. I think it was the most reviews I've received for a chapter yet. I'm so glad Kalanie's victory was so well received!

(Also, sorry for any typos this chapter. I couldn't do as much proofreading as normal.)


	29. A Legacy to Protect

Kuwabara brought down the shrine's barrier four days after Taku's defeat. He splayed a hand against its surface, his eyes jammed shut, and it flickered, all that crackling spirit energy dispersing into the ether.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Kalanie swiped her fingers through the barrier's last sparks. They shivered and danced against her flesh, brushing her with Kuwabara's steady strength. Then the barrier was gone, and the forest was as it had once been years ago, long before Kalanie ever found it. Undisturbed. Wild and tangled and uninhabited for miles.

"You're sure the encampment will stay safe?" she asked, frowning into the trees. Without the shield's sweeping dome, the forest seemed somehow more expansive, the sky more vast.

"Should be. Koenma has the Spirit Defense Force rounding up all hostile demons still on this side of the barrier between worlds. They're working their way out from the shrine, so I'd say we're standing in the safest place in Human World."

Kalanie hummed in soft agreement. She'd seen the Spirit Defense Force soldiers depart each morning—after all, their strange uniforms made them hard to miss—but she hadn't questioned their purpose. Knowing it now, she didn't envy their work. Rooting out the demons who'd settled in Human World seemed a brutish, exhausting task, yet someone had to do it.

She was thankful that someone wasn't her.

"Not having the barrier is strange," she said after a beat. "I've only ever known this place with that shield arcing overhead. The forest feels… empty. Broken. Like you've stolen away some pivotal piece of the temple."

Chuckling, Kuwabara looped a muscled arm around her shoulders. "Feels right to me. You'll get used to it. Promise."

She didn't even need to look at him to know he'd raised a curled hand, offering his knuckles as he had so many times before. With a quiet laugh, she knocked her fist against his. "I'm holding you to that."

Releasing her, he laced his hands behind his head and strode backward into the trees, heading toward the shrine—toward home. "Don't worry. The Mighty Kazuma Kuwabara always delivers on his promises. Count on it!"

And so she did.

* * *

Kurama stumbled upon Kalanie in the same stretch of woods where they'd first met.

After Kuwabara had returned to the temple, she'd wandered, allowing her feet to draw her onward. Her route had been long and circuitous. It brought her past Mazou's distant gravestone, then through the snarled stretch of woods where she'd attempted to escape the detectives before doubling back to save Yukina, and on through the narrow clearing where Hiei had first bid her to break her chains.

And finally, it had delivered her here. In the quiet, sun-dappled glade where Kuwabara and Kurama had captured her.

That day felt a lifetime ago. Back when she wore iron gloves to hide what she'd become. Back when she subsisted on scavenged berries and river water. Back when a sheer desperation for iron had forced her out of hiding, driving her to this place where by all rights she should've died.

Instead, she'd found the detectives—and all the hope they brought with them.

She'd hunkered at the base of a tree, fit snuggly amongst the roots, her head rocked back against the bark, and she watched through one eye as Kurama threaded his way to her. "Am I needed on watch duty?"

He shook his head. "Hiei's handling it." Drawing to a halt, he buried his hands in his pockets and surveyed the trees. "He might not miss the burden of being Mukuro's heir, but I suspect he yearns for the authority that came with that position."

She bit her lip against a laugh. "He's taken to commanding Chu and that lot around with quite the fervor, hasn't he?"

"I'd say so."

A breeze whistled through the trees, setting the loose strands of Kurama's long hair dancing. Kalanie studied him from the corner of her eye, noting the set of his shoulders and brightness in his gaze. He seemed purposeful in a way she hadn't seen before, his countenance driven and firm and entirely unafraid.

For all the time she'd known him, he'd been focused on defeating Taku, on saving Human World and his human mother. That intent had honed him sharp as a knife, the tension of it thrumming through him, hidden just beneath the gentle veneer he wore like armor. He'd been a fox backed into a corner, his hackles raises, his teeth bared.

Now, all that anxious energy was gone, dissipated as thoroughly as Kuwabara's barrier. A steady calm had risen in its place. He was still intent on some victory she couldn't name—of that, she was sure—but it was no longer fear that fueled his efforts.

She toyed with a fallen leaf and snuck another glance at him as she framed her next question. "You've been gone the last two days. Where to?"

"Gandara."

Her brows rose. "Reclaiming your title?"

"No." An unreadable expression crossed his features. She might've called it a smile if not for its failure to reach his eyes. "I'm done serving Yomi. Forever. But he's interested in organizing the next Demon World Tournament. It's time, he says, to find Enki's replacement. Yusuke's asked me to represent our interests during the planning."

A new Demon World Tournament? So soon? Taku's corpse hadn't even been cold a week. Was a fresh blood bath really needed in such short order?

"Are we ready for the chaos of a tournament?" She shredded her leaf into tiny pieces and let the scraps flutter from her fingers. "Yomi only wants one now because he'll stand a better chance of winning. Why play into that?"

"You're likely right about Yomi," Kurama concurred, "but regardless of his intentions, Demon World needs someone to lead it. Gandara is rallying beneath Yomi and Hokushin seems in control in Tourin, but Mukuro is floundering. Alaric hasn't responded to her return as she'd hoped. Its people suffered too much, and it appears they blame her for their misfortune." Kurama's gaze swung toward the distant shrine. "Hiei isn't her only officer who's failed to reclaim his title. Far from it."

"And why does that mean a new tournament is necessary? I don't follow."

"While I agree about Yomi's purposes being devious, I don't share your fear of his victory. In fact, I don't think he's capable of winning. I suspect he's erred in calculating his own abilities. Protecting Gandara these last years exhausted him more than he seems to properly account for. It's done the same to me and Yusuke and Hiei."

His words should've been dire, full of fear and uncertainty, yet a smile graced his lips as he turned back to her. "Taku's defeat drained too much from all of us. We'll need months to properly recover. But there are plenty of demons who hunkered down and protected themselves these last years. They'll be ready for the tournament, and I'm inclined to believe a fresh face is precisely what Demon World needs to lead it forward—to help it move on."

Frowning, Kalanie seized a new leaf. Its dried edges crumbled and cracked beneath her stiff fingers. "And if that fresh face wants more war? More dying? What then?"

"Then we'll rise up again." He chuckled lowly. It rang through the clearing, cold and calculated—the laughter of Yoko Kurama, confident and assured.

Well. No arguing with that.

She tossed aside her leaf. "Are you planning to enter?"

"No. My time in Demon World is done—at least as long as I occupy this human body. I'll get the tournament organized, then wash my hands of it."

"What of the others? Yusuke and Hiei?"

"You'd have to ask them." Wry amusement lit in his emerald eyes. "I suspect you know Hiei's answer already."

Did she?

Kurama continued before she could dwell on it. "You're good for him," he murmured, his head tilted a degree as he studied her. "I wouldn't have guessed it that day we found you here. You were skittish, a half-wild beast who'd stumbled into a trap. And who you revealed yourself to be after, guarded and self-reliant and so very much like Hiei himself... Frankly, you're not the sort of soul I'd imagined might compliment Hiei's. I'm still not sure which is wrong—my assumptions about the sort of partner he needed or my appraisal of who you are. Maybe neither. Maybe both."

Her heart sputtered in her chest. "Kurama—"

"Either way, I'm thankful. Not just for what you've become for Hiei, but for what you did for all of us. You saved us, Kalanie. We owe you for that."

Hell. This bullshit again.

"Not you, too," she said, rising to her feet and shaking her head. "I didn't save anyone. You saved yourselves."

"Maybe." His hands still secured in his pockets, he strode toward the trees. Right before their limbs swallowed him up, he turned back, the faintest smile dancing on his lips. "Or maybe we all saved each other."

* * *

"Kalanie!"

She hesitated in the hallway, twisting around to raise a brow at Yusuke.

He thundered through the meeting room in her wake and skidded to a standstill an arm's reach away. A bruise blossomed across his cheek and his sleeves were torn, both indicators that he'd spent another day helping the Spirit Defense Force reclaim Human World, but he buzzed with energy, crackling like a livewire, so full of life and excitement and purpose that he almost seemed to glow with it.

And she knew, just looking at him, that he wouldn't participate in Demon World's new tournament. He belonged here now. With Keiko. Protecting Human World same as he had as a teen.

A half-breed's blood ran in his veins, but his soul remained human. The Fall had only served to hasten along his realization of precisely who he was and where he was meant to be.

Cradling the steaming bowl of nutrient rich broth Kurama had concocted for Nomi, she leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Yes?"

"Had a chat with Koenma just now. Apparently binky breath is looking for you. He said he'd stop by tomorrow or the day after. Figured you'd want to know."

She frowned. "Me? Why?"

"Beats me. I'm just the messenger." He shrugged dramatically, then leaned forward to peer into the cloudy bowl clutched in her palms. "How's he doing? Nomi, I mean?"

"No change yet."

Six days and still nothing. Yukina's promised week was almost over, but Nomi remained as unresponsive as ever. Though he drank the broth Kalanie spoon-fed him each morning and night, swallowing seemed more his body's instinctual response than any sort of choice. So far, even Yukina's efforts to speed up his recuperation had proven ineffectual.

Waiting was torturous.

Shrugging his shoulders, Yusuke straightened. "Just a matter of time, I guess. But let's hope he wakes up tomorrow, yeah? I scrounged up some drinks on my rounds with the Spirit Defense Force today, and you know what that means, right?"

"A bonfire?"

Grinning, he sauntered backward down the corridor. "Damn straight. Biggest we've ever had."

* * *

Kalanie perched on the shrine's steps, a beer dangling from her fingers. Directly ahead, Yusuke stoked a fire, tossing logs into the crackling flames. His boisterous laughter broke over the clearing, pealing like thunder, and Kuwabara's chuckles answered.

At her side, Hiei held an empty beer of his own. He rolled the bottle between his palms as he muttered, "Bastards are going to draw out any pests Koenma's goons missed in the forest."

She masked a grin behind her drink. "At least we won't have to hunt them down later."

Hiei glanced sidelong at her, his gaze dropping to her mouth before flitting back upward. His tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. "I'd imagine it would ruin Yusuke's party if a gaggle of demons burst through those trees."

"Well, sure, but it'd make _our_ night."

He snorted and shook his head. Under the disguise of setting down his bottle, he slid an arm around her waist. His thumb dipped beneath her shirt and traced a fiery track across her skin. It sent shivers wracking down her spine, and a pleased growl thrummed in his throat.

Her eyes fluttering closed, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. In Demon World, such open affection was asking for trouble. It showed weakness. Dependence. Vulnerability. But here, tucked in the mountains of Human World, it felt right. At the fire, Keiko nestled against Yusuke's side, secured under one of his arms, and Yukina sat with Kuwabara, fitted into his side like two perfect puzzle pieces, one slim hand curled over his knee.

Kalanie hadn't quite figured out that level of comfort—with anyone, not just Hiei—but she was getting there. Hell, how she wanted it. To feel at ease. To feel safe and protected and secure. Letting go, being carefree… They seemed to be acquired skills. Ones Yusuke and Kuwabara had mastered long ago. Ones she would learn.

Pulling his arm back, Hiei snagged her hand in his and traced a finger along the whirls of iron embedded in her flesh. The gentle skimming of his callused thumb lulled her near to sleep, the warmth of his hands gathering in her joints and spreading outward.

She thought he might have been on the verge of speech when a shadow slanted over them, blocking out the firelight that had been dancing on the backs of her eyelids. Hiei's voice rumbled through her. "What do you want, Koenma?"

Startled, Kalanie sat up.

The Spirit World deity stood at the base of the steps, his hands shoved deep into the folds of his pockets, a binky stuck solidly between his teeth, so strange looking juxtaposed against his teenaged body. She'd seen him a handful of times in passing, during planning meetings before Taku's death and more often now as he orchestrated the Spirit Defense Force's movements, but she'd never spoken to him directly.

It seemed that was about to change.

"I'd like a word with Kalanie," Koenma said, sweeping a hand toward the shrine. "It'll be quick. I don't want to keep you from these festivities." His attention darted to their hands, still entwined in Hiei's lap, and he crooked an inquisitive brow.

Kalanie slipped from Hiei's grip and stood, halting Koenma's next question on his tongue. "Yusuke said you'd be coming."

"Actually delivered a message for once, did he? Perhaps he's finally growing up."

Hiei rolled his eyes. "Not likely."

Chuckling, Koenma bounced jauntily up the steps. "You're probably right about that, Hiei, but one can dream. Now, come on, Kalanie. Let's make this fast."

Uncertain, she passed her beer to Hiei. As she drew back, he caught her wrist and pulled her downward, snagging her lips in a kiss that left her breathless. He released her with a lazy smirk. "Go listen to the brat," he said as he stood and stalked toward Kurama.

She stared after him for a heartbeat, fighting to control a grin of her own, before drifting in Koenma's wake. The shrine was quiet and still inside, its occupants all gathered on the lawn, and Koenma led her into the deserted meeting room. Gracelessly, he plopped onto a cushion and gestured for her to do the same.

She settled on one to his left, bracing her elbows against her knees. "I'm not sure how I can be of use to Spirit World."

"Not to worry. I'm not here on Spirit World business. At least, not in the way you're thinking. I'm actually hoping you might help me with a Demon World matter."

Wordlessly, she raised her brows.

He fiddled nervously with the hem of his shirt and pitched his voice low. "I've been tasked with handling the rehabilitation of the recovered puppets, you see, and well… I'm not sure quite how to do that."

In the resounding silence, the pieces fell into place. His purpose set her heart racing, nervous energy sending her fingers knotting around one another, but the more she turned it over in her mind, the less it unnerved her.

"You want my help," she said slowly, "in getting them back on their feet."

"More or less." He shrugged a shoulder, a lopsided smile quirking around his binky. "I've already talked it over with Genkai, and she's agreed that the tent camp beyond the shrine could be transitioned to a halfway home of sorts for those still working through the repercussions of their time as puppets. That wouldn't be for a few months, of course, since Human World is still getting back on its feet, but in the meantime, my men have been bringing any puppets they find to the Plains of Peril. We could use you there. More than that, Taku's victims could use you there."

She hesitated, peeking down the hall to her room. Despite Yusuke's request for luck, Nomi hadn't stirred.

"I need to stay here—"

Koenma flapped a hand. "Yes, yes, I know. If you agree, I'll have one of the Spirit Defense Force escort you to Demon World a few times a week—more if you're willing—but this will remain your home. I've heard of your brother's condition. I wouldn't pull you away from him."

At her continued hesitance, he carried on, "I can't force your hand, but I wouldn't be asking this if I didn't think it was vital. I've spoken to a few of them… They're broken, Kalanie. In a way you don't seem to be. They need guidance. Someone to show them how to be themselves again. They need _you_."

She almost laughed at him.

It was absurd—framing her like a role model, like some hero for Taku's other victims to mimic—yet Koenma seemed earnest, truly convinced she might be a difference maker in those puppets' lives.

"I don't know how I recovered," she admitted, "let alone how to convince someone else to."

It was the truth.

She'd always defied the Sovereign Binds more than others. From the day Masaru first shackled her, she'd fought against the fog. She hadn't always won. More often than not, she'd lost. But she'd fought nonetheless, struggling and resisting until Masaru had slipped up and she'd managed her first escape.

After that, Hiei had helped her. She hadn't been alone. And always, she'd been fighting for Nomi—striving to save him at any cost.

There was no magic to any of that. Only a stubborn refusal to back down. An ornery, unbroken will that saw her through the worst Masaru could throw at her and somehow kept her pieces together enough for her to survive.

Koenma rose and smoothed out his pants. "I'm not going to beg you, but consider it, Kalanie. You say you don't know how you did it, but maybe you could figure it out. You could _try_."

For a moment, she said nothing, and he turned, heading for the door. Then she lurched to her feet. He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

She nodded. Once. A singular bob of her head.

"I can try."

* * *

Midnight came and went, but the bonfire remained roaring. A dozen hands tossed wood into the flames as the night wore on, keeping it blazing any time Yusuke grew distracted. No one wanted the evening to end.

After all, this was a celebration meant to last a lifetime.

Overhead, the stars shone like a thousand miniature suns, splayed across the sky's inky darkness. Beneath that sprawl, Kalanie lay in the grass, staring into the vast unknown.

Kurama and Hiei sat to her right, each holding fresh beers, conversing in hushed tones she couldn't make out properly over the fire's dull crackle. Even still, the thrum of their voices alone was enough to put her at ease.

She could've lain there forever, lost in the stars and the fire's heat and the unknowable promise of the future. Freedom was an eternal high, and each time she caught sight of the iron woven across her hands, she remembered all that was behind them and dreamed of all that lay ahead. They'd fought so long and so hard for so damn much, and at least, it was in reach.

It was earned.

And it was theirs.

When a murmur ran through the clearing, she ignored it. Perhaps Yusuke had made a particularly lewd joke or maybe Kuwabara had challenged him to another of their fake tussles or—

– _Kalanie.–_

Hiei.

– _Look up.–_

She shoved herself upright and locked on to him, but his crimson gaze was focused on the shrine and she traced his line of sight.

Her stomach bottomed out.

He was there. Whole. Awake. Color warming his cheeks and curls flopping in the breeze. Upright, he was taller than she'd given him credit for, his shoulders broader than she'd fully realized, but it was him.

At long last, it was him.

Kalanie staggered to her feet. "Nomi!"

Her heart soared as his hazel eyes swung toward her. "Nie?"

And just like that, she was whole.

* * *

AN: And so ends the final, proper chapter of this story. I'll be posting an epilogue—probably tomorrow?—but otherwise, we're done here. Kalanie's story is over!

This chapter was hard to write. Harder than I anticipated. I'm not sure I tied up all the threads as neatly and perfectly as I wanted to, but endings are always hard for me, so that's not unique to this story. That said, I tried to lay out the future of Human and Demon World a bit, plus Kalanie's own future. I think helping former puppets will be hard for her, but also exactly what she needs to help move past what happened to her and those she loved (especially Mazou) as a result of Masaru.

Her big moment with Hiei was last chapter, so there's nothing huge here, but instead a bunch of smaller moments with each of the gang. I hope you liked them!

Thanks to everybody who reviewed last chapter. You all rock!


	30. One Last Time

After the Rise came three years of amity. Three years characterized by rebuilding and healing and recovery. Three years full of hard-fought unity across Human World, its myriad governments working as one to forge a fresh future for humanity. Three years of novel governance in Demon World, the newly crowned queen bringing together Gandara and Tourin and Alaric as never before.

Through it all, a tiny shrine tucked along the spine of a mountain range served as a focal point. It began as a halfway home, a place for apparitions crushed beneath the Fall to rediscover themselves—to heal themselves. But as time wore on, it became more than that.

It became the home of the Union.

As he had as a teen, Yusuke Urameshi again served at the behest of Spirit World, and as before, his team rallied at his side—Kazuma Kuwabara, Yoko Kurama, Hiei Jaganshi. Together, they proved humans and demons need not remain divided as they always had. Together, they invoked the Fall's second coming.

But this time, when the barrier between worlds disappeared, no storm clouds of war gathered on the horizon. Rather, the Fall was orchestrated not with machinery and subterfuge, but by Spirit World itself, and parties from all three worlds presided over the proceedings.

Koenma and his Spirit Defense Force. Demon World's queen and the lords who served her. A vast sprawl of Human World's leaders—presidents and prime ministers, kings and generals.

And the former spirit detectives, too. The fighters who had brought the worlds back from the brink of ruin. The stubborn, ever-resilient men who became ambassadors between their kinds, between humans and demons, between half-breeds and blended souls.

And last of all, a pair of siblings. A girl whose hands gleamed with iron, silver whorls shimmering across her fingers, metallic lines twining up her forearms, and a boy with a mop of incorrigible curls and dancing hazel eyes.

And so, three years after the Rise, the barrier came down for the final time. No crush of apparitions flooding through the in-between followed. Nor any panicked armament by human armies or the Spirit Defense Force.

There was only the Union—the bringing together of humans and demons forevermore.

There was only peace.

* * *

AN: And that, my friends, is the end. Thank you so much for reading! It was an absolute blast to share this story with you! I can't say thank you enough to everyone who has reviewed. Every last one of those email notifications made my day. Truly!

In a few of those reviews, some of you have mentioned how excited you are for whatever I post next, and well… That's sort of complicated, so I figured I'd address it now. I do have a KuramaOC story jangling around in my brain (the first two chapters of which I actually drafted back in December), but I can't promise I'll be posting soon (or even at all).

See, _Once We've Fallen_ was sort of a perfect storm. It came to me one night when my friend and I were chatting about fanfic, and suddenly Kalanie and her whole story dropped into my head. It happened right when I needed it most, right when I was at the bottom of a massive anxiety spiral.

This story was a labor of love in a way no story ever has been for me. It reminded me of all the reasons I love writing (at a time when the publishing industry was giving me a whole lot of reasons not to), and every day that I sat down to draft Kalanie's journey was more wonderful and joyful than the last. I'm not sure I'll ever feel that way when writing again, but I'm so glad I got to experience it with _Once We've Fallen._

I'm so thankful that I remembered YYH and these amazing, incredible characters we all love, but at the same time, I have to focus on my original works again. They've been rather cruelly ignored over the last months while I devoted myself to this. So for now, I won't be writing any more fanfic (or at least, not a pace sufficient enough to start posting, certainly not at a two-chapter-a-week clip). By all means, feel free to keep me on your alerts if a KuramaOC fic interests you, but know that I'm not promising it'll appear.

I hope that's okay!

And thank you again for reading _Once We've Fallen_. Writing this story was some of the most fun I've ever had, and I'm so glad I got to share it with you all!


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